In every end there is a new beginning
by stupid is as stupid does
Summary: AU Harry defeated Voldemort but, instead of the happily-ever-after they all would have deserved, something happened to change their lives forever: Magic disappeared. 15 years later, magic seems to be resurfacing again. And with it, the purebloods' plans.
1. Prologue

I stood there, looking at my companions, unable to believe that the day had finally arrived. I pinched myself, hoping beyond hope that, maybe, I was just dreaming.

But, alas, it was not to be. Before my very eyes Grimauld Place was disintegrating. I sighed as the last part of the old building collapsed leaving nothing behind to indicate that it had once stood there. A woman with her child walked past, not even glancing at the building. A world hidden from her sight was disappearing.

Right at that moment every magical building in all of England was collapsing. The Ministry of Magic. Hogwarts. Platform 9 ¾. Saint Mungos. The death toll would be humungous, but then again, we had done our best to warn everyone once we had realized what had happened.

"I can't believe this is really happening," Ginny said, from next to me, echoing all of our thoughts, "How could we let this happen?"

"It wasn't our fault," Ron offered, weakly.

"Try explaining that to the rest of them," Hermione sighed quietly.

"I suppose that this is it," Ron said, staring at the place where minutes before Grimauld Place had stood. He picked up the suitcase which stood before him breathing heavily as he realized that the feather-light charm had failed.

"I suppose it is," Hermione nodded. Ron smiled at all of us in a sheepish manner, before he waved and walked down the street. We had said our goodbyes before.

Ginny's eyes followed Ron until he could no longer be seen from where we were standing before she turned to face us, "Do we really have to?" she asked.

"Yes," Hermione nodded, "They'll come looking for us. You know as well as I do that we have to split up."

We had had this discussion before – countless times in the last few months as more and more spells began to fail. In the beginning, magic just seemed to get harder to do until the most complicated spells failed completely. The previous night the last spell – Lumos – had stopped working, too, and we knew that it was time.

Suddenly, Ginny was hugging my neck tightly. "I'll miss you."

"It's not forever," I replied, patting her back awkwardly.

Ginny smiled at me before she pressed her lips to mine, "We should have had our happily ever after," she whispered, "You killed him. You made it."

"Everything has consequences," I replied, sighing, "Had I known what would have happened…"

"You still would have done it. You would still have sacrificed everything." Ginny said and suddenly I realized that, in her own way, she was blaming me. And, she was right – I wouldn't have done anything differently even if I had known that I was destroying magic. This was what made her perfect for her mission. I smiled a little, crooked, smile and wished that I could go instead of her.

"Who knows what the future will bring, maybe our time will come." I said.

"Maybe," Ginny echoed though I knew that we both didn't believe it.

Ginny smiled a little sadly as she hugged Hermione and kissed her cheek.

"Bye," she said, as she picked up her suitcase and walked away, too.

"Good luck," Hermione called after her, causing Ginny to turn around and wave at us before she turned around and was gone.

Hermione and I were left there, alone, neither one of us wanting to be the first person to leave first. "We should get going," I said, suddenly.

"We should," Hermione agreed but still we made no move.

Finally, I picked up my suitcase, "Good Bye Hermione."

"Harry," Hermione said, stopping me in my tracks, "Promise me to take care of yourself."

"You, too," I smiled a little.

"No, I mean it. Promise me." Hermione sighed, "You attract danger. Keep your head down. And don't forget to subscribe to _The Mirror_…"

"…and read the Advertisements," I finished for her, smiling a little.

"I'm sorry," she sighed, "I'm just worried."

"We all are." I sighed a little, putting my suitcase down to hug Hermione tightly, "I'll miss you."

"Tell me that it'll all be all right," Hermione said, crying into my shoulder.

"It'll be all right," I whispered, "How could it not be? You're the brightest witch of our time and I'm the boy-who-lived turned man-who-conquered turned man-who-singlehandedly-destroyed-magic…"

"Give us some credit, too," Hermione whispered into my ear, "You weren't alone."

No, she was right. I had never been as alone as I was from that day onward. As I picked up my suitcase I was leaving behind the last few years – the happiest years of my life.

I smiled at her, "Do you need help with your luggage?" I asked, indicating the suitcases filled with her personal things that she couldn't leave behind and had thus rescued from the crumbling house.

"No," she shook her head, "I'll manage. It's better if we split up as soon as possible. Do you have…"

"The key?" I finished for her, "Yes, Hermione, I have the key. I won't forget."

"Well, take care. And, good luck," Hermione said, sighing a little.

"I won't need the luck, Hermione, I'm not doing anything dangerous," _unlike _you, I added in my mind.

"Just walking down the street is dangerous for you, Harry, you know that I wish things had been different…"

"I know, it's just, I feel so damn useless."

"Well, we should get going. I'll miss you."

I nodded a little and turned around, walking down the street, away from the only home and family I had ever known.

September twentieth is the day that magic finally failed completely. I had destroyed the very society I had been trying to protect and save.

And thus, as I walked away from my life I knew that I was leaving something behind that I would miss dearly. I took a deep breath and turned around, once, looking back towards Hermione, who was walking away in the other direction.

I turned around the corner and put down my two suitcases and sat down on them, looking into the distance. I had nowhere to go.

Cars and people passed me by. People who had no idea that this day would go down in history. No idea that this day would change the lives of a whole society.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The alarm clock woke me, like it did every morning, at exactly 6:24. Don't ask me why, I had simply never bothered to reset it – it came with the house I was living in.

Automatically, I hit the snooze button. When, ten minutes later, the alarm clock began to ring again, I sighed and dragged myself out of bed. Looking out the window, I could see the entire village: the church, the school, the grocery store and the bowling alley.

I stretched a little before I grimaced and turned around to walk down the stairs. Like every morning, I took the butter out of the fridge, placed the kettle on the stove and popped two slices of toast into the toaster.

Pulling my bathrobe tighter around myself, I went to the front door and opened it. I saw a young boy biking up the small road, "Hey, Mr. J." he waved at me and threw the newspaper directly into my hands.

I grumbled a little and turned around, closing the door behind myself. Carelessly throwing the newspaper on the kitchen table, I walked upstairs to take a quick shower and brush my teeth. I walked down the stairs and entered the kitchen just as the kettle began to whistle.

Quickly, I poured myself some tea and buttered my toast before sitting down at the table.

I picked up the Newspaper, like every morning, and leafed through it. It had been years since my friends had last encoded a message in the advertisements.

Like every morning, I sat at the table until well after I had finished drinking my tea and eating my toast. At exactly 7:32 – the time when the clock in the living room chimed – I went into the neighboring room which functioned as the library.

Officially, it was the public library, but no one ever came. The villagers had other worries and did not spend much time reading. The only person who came by sometimes was the pastor.

And thus I spent all day long sitting in my chair, waiting for customers that would never come. This was my life.

I had left London a week after magic had ceased to exist and had began to wander around, working odd jobs here and there. Until it had become too cold to do so as winter approached. As fate would have it, I was stranded in this little village whose librarian was an old man looking for a younger replacement.

He had stayed with me for about a year before he gave me his house and the library and left. And thus I had taken over his life.

With my thirty-odd years, I felt like an old man. I didn't even recognize myself when I looked into the mirror. My eyes were dull and I had already gained a few white hairs along with a pretty respectable beard. After all, it wouldn't do to have anyone recognize me.

In that spirit, I had changed my name to Phillip Jameson and socialized as little as possible. Instead, I spent my mornings in the library and my afternoons in the attic, looking through the things I had rescued from the collapsing building and working out. After all, I had to stay in shape in case it was ever needed.

I had had a few months' time to decide what I should take along, and still I regretted my choices. Most of the things I had taken had been destroyed as magic had failed or didn't work anymore. My wand, for example, was now a completely useless stick which I stored in a box in the attic and took out every once in a while to polish.

I knew that there was no point to it, not really, but still I held on to that tiny bit of hope that one day, maybe, I could go back.

At two, like every day, the streets got louder as the children came home from the school. I glanced outside and sighed a little as I got up from my chair. I had long ago stopped listening for the chime of the old librarian's cuckoo-clock (which rang at 2:04) to indicate that my day was over. Instead, I left the library as soon as I could hear the children approaching.

That day, however, just as I was putting the book I had been reading back into its shelf, the door chimed.

You have to understand that this is not only an unusual occurrence – it is a highly unusual occurrence. I turned around, a little startled, and saw a young woman standing in the door, smiling a little awkwardly.

"Can't you read?" I asked, rather abruptly, "We're closed."

"I'm sorry," the woman said, pulling a loose curl behind her ear, "I'm actually looking for you."

"For me?" I asked, pulling up an eyebrow, "Why on earth would you be looking for me?"

"You're a hard man to find, Mr. Potter," she said, smiling a little, "Can we discuss this over a cup of tea?"

"I'm sorry," I shook my head, "You have me confused with someone else. My name is Phil Jameson."

"Of course," the woman nodded, "Can I come in?"

"No," I shook my head, "What is it that you want to talk to me about?"

"I was sent to you by a Mister Dursely," the woman offered, smiling a little.

"I'm sorry," I shrugged a little, "I don't know a Mister Dursely," I said, before closing the door in her face. She stood there for a moment before shrugging and turning around leaving.

As she walked away, I took a deep breath. How had she found me? And, more importantly, why?

I took a second deep breath and walked into the kitchen where I opened my cupboard and took out a bottle and a glass. Pouring myself some Firewhiskey I sighed sadly, knowing that I would have to leave. Even if this woman did not mean me any harm, I would have to leave. I took out my phone and was about to dial the Newspaper's number to encode a secret message for the others when, suddenly, the door bell rang again.

I picked up my glass and walked over to the door, opening it carefully.

"Hello, again," the woman said, smiling brightly, "Would you care to join me for an early dinner?"

"It's not even three yet," I replied, a little astonished.

"Indeed," the woman replied, nodding, "That is true. Still, I need to talk to you."

"Listen," I said, suddenly, "I don't know who you are or why you have come but I'm not Harry Potter."

"I never mentioned that I was looking for _Harry_ Potter."

"Damn," I cursed, quietly. I had become careless. During the war, this could have meant my death – as a matter of fact, it could still mean my death.

"So you admit to being Harry Potter?" the woman asked.

"Let's put it this way," I sighed a little, "I used to be Harry Potter. Now, what does Dudley want?"

"I don't rightly know," the woman admitted, "I was given a letter."

"A letter?" I asked, confused.

"Yes," the woman nodded, "A letter. Now, where did I put it?"

She looked through countless pockets until she pulled out a crumpled letter. "How long have you been looking for me?" I asked.

"As I said – you're a hard man to find." She smiled a little.

I took the letter and tore it open.

"_Dear Harry," _the letter began, and I wondered what was wrong, since Dudley had never been this civil to me.

"_First off, I would like to apologize for the way I acted all these years ago. I don't think I ever really understood what you were going through. But I do know that you didn't deserve the way I treated you._

_I have a favor to ask of you, Harry. It's my daughter, Celia. She is, well, like you."_

I put down the letter, staring at it incredulously. This was impossible. Completely and utterly impossible. We had destroyed magic – Dudley's daughter could never be magical. This had to be a trap.

"_I can't raise her – I simply can't. I love her, don't doubt that but I simply can't have her here. Mom died last year and my dad, well, you know how he is. And then there's her little brother whom we have to think about._

_I don't want her to have to live like you did. I don't want to put her through that, but I know that being different will do that to her._

_Please, Harry, think about it. I will, of course, pay for her upbringing. I don't know anything about your situation but if it is possible, please, please take care of her._

_Thank you, Dudley Dursley."_

I stared at the woman before me wondering whether this was the truth. "Tell me," I said, suddenly, "How is Dudley?"

"I don't know," the woman shrugged, "It's been years since I saw him. As I said, I spent quite a while looking for you."

"Very well. Tell Dudley that I will be in London on Monday. Tell him that I'll meet him at the train station. And if you tell anyone else…"

"Don't worry," the woman smiled crookedly, "I'm not telling anyone else. I was hired to find you, give you the letter and take your response back to Mister Dursley - and that is exactly what I will do."

"Very well," I nodded, "And if this is a trap I will come back and haunt you."

"Oh, Mister Potter," the woman laughed silently, "We both know that that is not possible anymore."

"I'll make it possible," I said, "As you know, I have made quite a few things possible."

"True," the woman shrugged a little, "But back then you were young and you had help – you weren't a shell of your former self, you hadn't given up."

I smiled grimly, nodding at her. "Well, it was nice meeting you, Mister Potter," the woman smiled a little.

"I never did catch your name," I said, suddenly.

"No," she shook her head, "No, you didn't. I'm Karen Lovegood."

"Lovegood?" I asked, smiling a little, "Well, it's no wonder you found me."

"No?" the woman asked, confused.

"Well, with your mother being who she is…" I trailed off, before shaking my head, "Well, tell her that I saw a knargle the other day."

"Knargle?" the woman pulled up an eyebrow, "My mother sounds more and more crazy the more I learn about her, even before she actually went crazy."

"What happened to her?"

"Losing magic, it, well, it did things to her."

I nodded, sadly, before putting the letter into my pocket. "Well, tell her about the knargles anyway."

"Will do," the woman nodded before turning around and leaving. I sighed and hoped that she would keep her word and not tell anyone about finding me.

The following Monday I made my way to London. As soon as I got onto the train station, I could see Dudley standing in the middle of the station, a young girl by his side.

He looked around nervously and approached the place where the barrier between platform 9 and 10 had once led to platform 9 ¾.

I approached him and smiled a little, "Hello, Dudley. Long time no see."

Dudley whirled around, "Don't do that," he said, "I nearly had a heart attack."

"I'm sorry," I replied, "So, this is Celia?" I asked, turning to face the little girl.

"Yes," Dudley nodded, "She's…" he looked around and lowered his voice before speaking, "like you."

"No, she's not." I shook my head, "Dudley, magic doesn't exist anymore."

"What do you mean?" he asked, astonished.

"Exactly what I said," I replied, "Magic doesn't exist. I destroyed it."

"Well, you didn't do a very good job of it. I know the signs, Harry, I saw them on you. She is definitely magic."

"She can't be."

"Thank you," the girl said, smiling at me, "See, dad, I told you that you were going crazy. Magic doesn't exist. You said so yourself."

"She is magic," Dudley insisted, "Listen, Harry, I know that we were never very close but you know as well as I do that I wouldn't make this up. She makes things float. She changes the color of her t-shirts...granted, she doesn't seem as powerful as you were but I know magic when I see it."

"When was the last time you actually saw her do anything unusual?"

"Five years ago," Dudley replied, "But she's going to turn fifteen soon, and, well, I thought you might take her in for the holidays while she's at…your school," Dudley had lowered his voice again and was looking around nervously, "I wonder why she didn't get the letter when she turned eleven…" he said, suddenly.

"Dudley, the letter won't come." I said, "You don't have to worry about that. Nothing out of the ordinary will happen."

"But it's dangerous." Dudley argued back, whispering fervently, "An untrained witch, you know how disastrous that could prove to be."

"How do you know about that?" I asked, confused.

"When she first did magic I read a couple of the books that you had left behind. I…I brought them along," he pointed at the old suitcase that still had my initials engraved on them. It was my old Hogwarts trunk. I smiled a little, astonished that it still existed.

"Okay," I sighed a little, "Celia, tell me, how did you do it?"

"I…I guess I just wanted it." The girl said, looking at me in a suspicious manner.

"Okay," I smiled a little, opening my trunk carefully and pulling out a feather, "The most important thing in your life, right now, is to make this feather float."

"Why?" she asked, confused. Or, maybe, not confused but rather defiant.

"Because, if you don't, I'm going to kill your father," I said, pulling out a knife. Ever since the war I had never been unarmed.

"What?" Dudley exclaimed.

"Well, if she can't levitate the damn feather then she is no witch. And if she is no witch, then this whole thing is a trap."

"A trap?" Dudley asked, "Why would I do that?"

"You tell me, Dudley," I shrugged a little, "Why would you?"

"I would not risk my daughter's life."

"But you would give her away to save your own?" I asked, pulling up an eyebrow, "You're despicable."

I applied a bit more pressure to Dudley's neck and was now even drawing a bit of blood when, suddenly, the feather began to float.

I gasped audibly and let the knife fall to the floor where it clanked loudly against the cement.

"Merlin," I whispered, "This is impossible."

"I know," Dudley agreed, "my daughter is a witch."

"Celia Dursley," I muttered, "I never thought I'd see the day when a Dursley is a witch."

"So, will you take her?"

"As I said, Hogwarts is closed," I said.

"So?" Dudley asked, "Just…take her. I'll pay you."

"I have enough money," I said, shaking my head, "It's never been about money."

"She needs to learn how to control it." Dudley said.

"If I take her in, you are not to contact each other – ever. Do you understand?" I could not risk anyone watching the Dursleys and finding me due to Celia.

"Thank you," Dudley smiled, "Here," he handed me a thick envelope, "All the papers you need."

I nodded and turned around when Dudley called out to me, causing me to turn around again, "I really mean it, Harry. Thank you. I knew I could count on you."

"You always could," I sighed a little, picked up my Hogwarts trunk and walked off. A few meters in, I turned around, "Well, are you coming?" I asked when I noticed that Celia wasn't following me.

"Yes," the girl nodded and picked up her suitcases before she turned to follow me.

"All right, Celia," I said, "My name is Phil Jameson. You can call me Uncle Phil or Mister Jameson."

"But I thought dad said…"

"Forget everything your dad said. You are now an orphan. You are not to contact anyone from your past life, are we understood?"

"Yes," Celia nodded, "But why?"

"Because I will not be found by anyone." I said, staring her down, "You are not to let anyone know anything about your life – or mine for that matter. If I find that you do…" I trailed off, "Let's just say you don't want to find out."

"Yes, Mister Jameson," she nodded.

"Good. Now, in case anyone asks you, you are a distant relative of mine and the authorities have finally reached me. You were orphaned years ago and you don't remember your parents. Your name is Celia Jameson."

"Okay," the girl nodded again.

"Right." I said, "Let's go."

And with that we turned to leave. Over the whole journey back to my house, we didn't talk. Finally, we arrived and the cab stopped. I exited the car and picked up the trunk, leaving Celia to struggle with hers.

"Well," I said when we entered the kitchen, "I suppose that this is it. I don't have a room ready for you – after all I didn't expect that you would actually be coming along."

She just nodded and said nothing. I wondered what had happened to that somewhat-sassy response at the train station. Maybe I had just scared her with my stunt with the knife. I had just learned long ago that for me magic was triggered easiest when I had the additional adrenalin running through my veins.

"Very well," I sighed a little, "You can sleep in the guest room for now. Tomorrow we'll enroll you at the local school."

The girl nodded and followed me up the stairs obediently. After all, what other choice did she have?

Still, her actions astonished me. In her place I would have reacted in a completely different manner. I would have asked for reasons, I would have been angry and I definitely wouldn't have complied so easily.

As I walked up the stairs, another thought suddenly occurred to me. How, exactly, had Luna's daughter found me?

I pushed open a door to a small room. There was a bed, a lamp, a small closet and an old rug. Otherwise the room was completely bare. I stepped aside to let Celia enter the room before me, "Don't break anything," I said as I turned around and went downstairs.

There, on the kitchen counter lay the newspaper that I had not read that morning. I quickly skimmed over the advertisements when my eyes caught a familiar one. It portrayed a woman holding an owl on her arm and lifting it high. I grinned a little – friendly contact ahead. I had a whole catalogue of different messages upstairs and I had looked through them so often that I knew them nearly by heart.

I grimaced a little, "Gee, thanks, Hermione," I muttered to myself, "that was a little late."

"Who's Hermione?" a voice behind me asked, causing me to pull out my knife and whirl around.

"Geez, it's just me," Celia exclaimed, putting up her arms. I smiled a little and put the knife down.

"Right. What are you doing here?" I asked, throwing the newspaper down on the kitchen table.

"I'm sorry, Mister Jameson," Celia said, timidly, "I'm just hungry."

"Right," I said, again, feeling stupid for not thinking of this earlier, "I suppose that is natural." I looked around and found my cupboards frighteningly bare. I sighed and pulled out the last package of spaghetti and found some more tomato sauce in the refrigerator, "Right, I know what else we're going to do tomorrow," I muttered as I put the spaghetti into the boiling water.

"What?" Celia asked from her seat on the kitchen table.

"Nothing," I shook my head, "We'll have to go shopping tomorrow."

"I can see that," she muttered quietly.

"If you have something to say," I said, whirling around, the spoon I had used before to stir the pasta raised high, "Then say it, but cease this muttering."

I must have looked pretty ridiculous, but Celia just nodded, "I'm sorry, Mister Jameson."

I just shook my head and turned back to face the stove again. It had been a while since I last had had company. Looking back, I don't know why I behaved the way I did. Maybe I just had had too much time on my own. Maybe I was just a bitter old man.

Anyways, a few minutes later, we were sitting at the table and eating. I had nothing to say, so I kept my mouth shut.

"So…" Celia said, suddenly, "Why are you so afraid of being found?"

I sighed, "I suppose I'll have to tell you eventually. I destroyed magic and now there are a few people who are pretty mad at me for doing that. They've been looking for me ever since magic failed completely twenty years ago."

"How do you destroy magic?"

"By using too much of it and thus depleting the supply."

"Won't the supply replenish itself?" the girl asked.

"It would," I replied, a bit astonished that she had picked up on that fact when most of the grown wizards and witches hadn't, "The theory is just that it'd take centuries until it's replenished enough."

The girl nodded, "Then how do you explain me?" she asked.

"Magic," I smirked a little, "Sometimes it isn't completely explainable. Sometimes you have to just accept it."

The girl nodded again before she turned her full concentration back to her pasta. Another ten minutes passed until we were finally done. I picked up her plate and stashed it on mine.

"Now, there are a few rules concerning the use of magic. I assume that you can control it already – you are, after all, fifteen."

"I can stop it from occurring," the girl said, "But I can't make anything specific happen."

"Right," I nodded, "So, there is really only one rule: don't."

"Don't?" she asked, confused.

"Don't do it." I said, sighing a little, "I know that it might feel as though it is your birthright and I understand that you might see no harm come from it but trust me, it's better if you just forget about magic."

"Like you're forgetting about it?" the girl asked, scoffing, "You're still pining after it."

Ah, there she was, the defiant girl I had been looking for. I suppose I jinxed it myself.

I felt myself grow angry. I just remembered why I'd pulled back from other people: they had the tendency of pointing out our faults. Faults that we are aware off but want to just gloss over.

"You will not use magic while you live in this house. And should you ever do so, there will be consequences, trust me."

"Trust you?" the girl asked, "I will never trust you. I've been with you for a grand total of five hours and you've already threatened both me and my father with a knife."

"Fine, then just believe me. I will not hurt you and whatever you may think, this is for the best."

"Whose best? Yours or mine?"

"Both of ours." I replied, sighing a little, "What do you think they'll do to you if they find you living here with me?"

"Do they even exist? These people that are looking for you?"

"Of course they exist," I replied, sighing a little, "Now, listen to me, Celia, you will not practice magic. You will concentrate on not using any magic whatsoever. Understood?"

The girl nodded and I sighed. I had won – though it was a hollow victory as the girl got up and left the room without another word.

I got up and cleaned the plates by hand, missing magic once again though it had been twenty years since I had last used it. And now, today, that wound was fresh again, the scab that I thought had finally formed was torn away again in that one second when I saw Celia make the feather float.

I sighed once more and picked up the trunk to walk up the stairs with it. As I did so, I couldn't help but smile slightly – maybe, just maybe magic was coming back. Maybe, someday soon, I would feel the familiar core within me come back to life. Maybe someday soon, I would be able to wash my dishes with a simple flick of my wand.

I made my way to my room, wondering once again how Dudley could give up his daughter. Did his hatred for my kind – or, more precisely, witches and wizards – really run deep enough to even include his own daughter?


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

I stood in the middle of my room, looking around. I got up quickly and took a letter I had written and hid it under a loose floorboard before moving the bed to cover it. I hoped that they would find it. There was nothing else I could do for her except stop running. I had been running for a week now and they had come closer and closer.

I knew that that was the day I would be caught. I went into the kitchen and put the kettle on the stove. Looking out the window I could see their car pulling up. I sighed a little and took out a cup and some tea.

When the kettle whistled I could hear their footsteps running up the stairs. I poured myself some tea, "Come in," I shouted when I knew that they were before my door, "I've been expecting you."

They did so and entered the kitchen, their guns drawn, "Hello, boys," I smiled a little as I took a sip.

"Ginerva, you're going to have to come with us," a tall, brown-haired man said.

"I know," I replied, taking another sip, "Can I finish this?" I asked, gesturing towards the tea.

"I'm afraid not," the man replied, smiling in a friendly manner.

"Well, Blaise, in that case, let me just get my coat." I got up, placed the cup down and prayed that I had had enough before I walked out of the kitchen and towards the door. Blaise and the others followed me closely, watching my every move.

"Don't do anything stupid," he said when he saw me look out the window, "Goyle, search the place."

I smiled sadly as I picked up my coat, "You won't find what you're looking for. Or should I say who you're looking for?"

"I'm sorry. Ginerva," the man said, sighing a little.

"It doesn't matter anymore," I replied, smiling a little, "I have done what I had to do."

Blaise simply smiled back at me when Goyle came back, "Nothing," he said, shrugging.

"I didn't think you'd find anything," Blaise agreed, "Are you ready?" he asked, turning to face me.

"Yes," I nodded. I had been ready for a long time. Blaise led me down the stairs and into the car. Once there he blindfolded me and the car drove off.

I didn't say anything, I didn't struggle. It was useless, I knew that much. I did nothing as they made me get out of the car and into a building. Finally, they tied me to a chair.

"Leave," Blaise said, and I heard steps walking away from us, "You know, Ginerva, don't think I don't know what it was that you were drinking."

"Tea?" I asked, smiling a little.

"Don't make me seem more stupid than I am. Now, I'm not going to say anything because, to be honest, I understand why you're doing what you're doing. I might have done the same." I could nearly hear him smile, "And I really am sorry."

"I know," I replied, sighing a little, "It doesn't matter. It's over."

Blaise stroked my hair, softly, "Good bye, Ginerva, I'll miss you. Even if I probably never knew you."

"No, you didn't know me," I replied, "But then, no one knew me."

I heard Blaise sigh quietly and for a second I was sure he was going to say something when I heard him walk away. At the door, he hesitated for a second – at least I assumed he had reached the door. A moment later, it fell shut behind himself and I heard the lock click twice.

For a moment I missed magic. If magic had never disappeared I wouldn't be in this mess now. I closed my eyes, imagining a different life. I'd probably be married to Harry by now, living happily ever after in a small house with children and a dog, surrounded by the whole family.

But it wasn't to be. I knew that no one would find me. I was going to meet Smith the following day, but he wouldn't start looking for me for a few days. And Hermione – she wouldn't get worried for a week or two. We only met once a month, after all, unless special circumstances made it necessary to meet more often.

I thought of Harry once again but then I shook my head, banishing him from my thoughts. Instead I thought of her, of Camellia. Named, in a way, after two women who had given their lives for Harry. My most precious daughter who might never forgive me. And Harry – what would he think?

Camellia. Maybe he would understand the silent tribute to his own mother – from one flower to another.

Suddenly, I felt a tear trickle down my face. Why, I wondered, was I crying now? I hadn't cried when I'd drunken that _tea_. I hadn't cried when I'd left Camellia. I hadn't cried when I'd first discovered the plan. I hadn't cried when I'd lost magic. I hadn't cried when I'd first slept with Malfoy. I hadn't cried in a long time. Not since mom had died.

I don't know how long I sat there, crying. After what seemed like hours, I stopped crying and collected myself. It wouldn't do to seem weak. I began to raise my hand to wipe away my tears when I remembered that they were tied together. I closed my eyes and wondered how much time I had left. I knew it couldn't be much longer.

Then, suddenly, I heard the lock click again and the door bang against a wall.

"Well, well, well," the man said as he entered the room, "What have we here? A crying Weasley?" I couldn't see anything as I was blindfolded but I knew who it was anyways. I had spent more than ten years getting to know them all closely and I knew no one better than him.

I had gained their trust, spent countless nights with each of them and thus I knew that it had to be Malfoy. Still, I said nothing.

"So, Weasley, I see that your true colors are finally showing. I knew we should never have trusted you."

"As I recall, it was you who introduced me. He's going to be really angry. I really wouldn't want to be in your shoes right now."

"Well, I can assure you, yours aren't very cozy either. As a matter of fact, you won't need shoes for much longer."

I smirked a little but said nothing as he came closer. I couldn't help but wonder whether or not this really was the end. It didn't matter, anyways, I had done what I had come to do. I had rescued her.

"We'll find her again, you know that, don't you?" It seemed that he had gotten to know me, too.

"That's where you're wrong," I replied, trying to put as much of my hate and distaste into my words as possible. I nearly smiled as I knew that no matter what happened to me, they would never get to her again. At least I hoped they wouldn't.

"It doesn't matter whether you believe me or not. You won't live to see it anyways."

"Are you trying to scare me, Draco?" I asked, smiling a little, "I know you too well for that to work."

He came even closer and took off my blindfold. I blinked a couple of times as the light hit my eyes. Looking around I saw that we were in a factory of some sort. I took a deep breath and spat at him.

He simply wiped away my spit, "I can't believe that I let you into my house, into my bed."

I smirked up at him. Neither could I, to be honest. When Malfoy had first shown interest in me, I had played along. I had needed someone who would introduce me to all the right people. And Malfoy had done exactly that. Sharing his bed a few nights a week seemed like a small price to pay for all the information I could pass on. Still, I couldn't help but feel filthy no matter how often I told myself it was for the greater good.

"You know, it could have been very different." He said, sighing a little and for a second I thought that maybe he really did care about me, but then his cold mask returned and he scoffed, "Who am I kidding, you would have betrayed us eventually."

"She's just ten, Draco," I said, looking up at him defiantly, "I couldn't watch anymore. She's my daughter, for Merlin's sake."

"I know," the man replied, "Which is why I turned a blind eye when you visited her. I should have stopped you earlier."

"Maybe," I nodded, "But then she'd never have survived. You know that as well as I do. And you need her."

It doesn't matter," he smirked a little, "As I said, we'll find her again."

"So, what now?" I asked, smiling at him, "Are you going to be the one to kill me?"

He didn't answer, he just looked down at me, "You know, Ginerva," he said, suddenly, "I should have known that it was all about Potter. It was always about Potter with you."

I had nothing to reply to that. Malfoy was right – it was always about Harry. I did everything I did for Harry and now he'd never know. Maybe I should be thankful because he'd never find out what I had done. What I had had to do.

"It doesn't matter," Malfoy said, "Now, I need to know what, exactly, you know about our plan."

"Everything," I replied, smirking a little, "I finally figured it out, Draco. It took me long enough to put the pieces together, didn't it?"

"I must admit that I thought you'd have figured it out earlier." He smirked a little, "Why do you think she was always so sick? So weak?"

I had no response and so I simply shrugged, hoping beyond hope that someone might find me.

"You never could stop us from taking what was rightfully ours. It was our inheritance and your precious Potter took it from us. She had no right to it."

"Of course she had a right to it," I replied, scoffing, "Why on earth would it not be her right?"

"She's a dirty halfblood," the man said, nearly spitting, "Daughter of a blood traitor and a Muggle,"

"A Muggle?" I said, nearly laughing, "Oh, Draco, for heaven's sakes, you must have figured it out by now. She's yours. I even named her after your mother." I smiled but left out the true reason why I had done so. Why I had named her after the woman who had saved Harry and had been killed by an angry Death Eater after her pardon by the ministry.

"Mine?" the man asked, taking a step backwards, "How?"

"Do I need to explain it to you?" I asked, pulling up an eyebrow, "It doesn't matter anyways. You won't ever see her again."

"We'll see," he smirked, "I'll have you know that now that I know she has my blood flowing through her veins it will be easy to find her."

"You think I didn't know that? You don't think that I thought of all of this before I did something? I'll have you know that I placed charms on her that will make it impossible to detect her using spells."

"You used a vial?"

"As much as it disgusted me," I replied, narrowing my eyes, "I had to. You won't find her." I smiled a little, "You won't find her. And even if you do – she's protected."

"And I assume you will not tell me what I want to know?" he asked, leaning forwards.

"No," I shook my head, "I will never tell you."

"Who did you tell?" he asked, suddenly, "Who did you tell about the plan?"

"Well," I smirked, "I don't think I'll tell you. I'll die either way."

"Ah, but the difference," he said, suddenly, pulling out a knife, "Lies in the how. How do you want to die, Ginerva?"

"On my terms," I replied, smiling at him.

"What did you do?" he asked, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Ginerva," he said, shaking my shoulder, "_What_ did you do?"

I didn't reply, I just sighed sadly, "You know, Draco, you aren't a bad man. You're just misguided."

He scoffed, "You don't believe that."

"You're right," I smirked a little, "I don't. But you know, my absence will be detected."

"Right, who will notice your absence?"

"People you don't want involved." I smiled a little, "I wrote letters because I knew that you'd catch me."

"You were waiting for us," he said, looking at me, "So, who were these letters addressed to?"

"Different people," I looked up at him, "You know as well as I do that you will never find all of the letters."

"What, exactly, did you put in these letters?" he asked, coming closer.

"I'm not going to tell you," I replied, smiling a little.

"Then, I am afraid, we have a problem," he smirked at me as he pulled out a knife, "Because I really, really want to know."

"Yes," I nodded, "I know. For that reason I had tea before I was taken."

"You think tea is going to help you?" the man before me scoffed a little before he picked up his knife and held it to my face, "What a shame, you have such a pretty face."

I smiled a little, "I think you've seen too many movies."

He sneered, "So, will you tell me?"

I made to spit again but he simply covered my mouth. I bit down on his hand, hard, which caused him to backhand me.

"Well?" I asked, "What are you afraid of? Do it already."

He smiled a little as he made a long cut down the side of my face. Immediately, I began to bleed. I could feel the blood run down the side of my face.

I laughed softly.

"What is your problem?" the man asked, making a second, deeper, cut.

"I can't feel it, Draco. As I said, I had tea."

"Well, it's going to wear off soon enough," Draco said, putting his knife down.

"Yes," I agreed, "But by that time I'll be dead."

Malfoy looked at me, "And you were a Gryffindor," he said, "You would have done well in Slytherin."

"Maybe," I agreed, "Be that as it may, it doesn't matter anymore. Neither Gryffindor nor Slytherin exists anymore."

"Exactly," Malfoy said, looking at me, "How could he do it? I knew him, I knew Potter. He loved magic. That must have been the only thing we had in common. How could he destroy it?"

"Harry loved magic," I agreed, "But there is one thing he loved more – humanity. He would never have sacrificed all these muggles and halfbloods and muggleborns for magic."

"And you, Ginerva, what would you have done?"

"I would have sacrificed magic in a heartbeat," I replied, looking up at my captor, "At least, today I would."

There had been days when I hated Harry for destroying my life. My world. But I knew that it was the right thing to do, no matter how much I missed magic.

"So you never did believe in our cause?" he asked, pulling up an eyebrow.

"Of course I believed in the cause," I replied, "I want magic back. I want my old life back. But Draco, there are boundaries which I would never cross. And what you did – what you did to Camellia – it had crossed the line by more than a thousand miles."

"Sometimes people have to be sacrificed for the greater good. In order for the community to live, sometimes, individuals have to be sacrificed."

"So you'd sacrifice your own daughter? And others like her? Who are you to make that choice – who gets to live and who is sacrificed."

"I am a Malfoy," he replied looking down at me in his superior manner and I couldn't help but smile a little.

"And how the mighty have fallen," I said, smiling a little.

"I have not fallen," he said, suddenly angry, "You will see, one day the Malfoy family will have its nae restored in a world ruled by magic. Or rather," he smirked at me, "You won't see because traitors like you have no place in the new world.

"Oh brave new world," I said, sarcastically, "You should know that this never works out the way you plan it to. You will be stopped."

"And who will stop me? Muggles? They don't even know about me. Your precious Potter? I heard that he's dead."

I laughed softly, "Oh, Harry is no more dead than you or I."

"So you know where he is?"

"No," I shook my head, "Only one person knows where Harry is."

"And who, pray tell, is that?" Malfoy asked, leaning down towards me.

"Harry," I replied, smirking.

"It doesn't matter," Malfoy shrugged, "One of these days we'll catch him. We're very patient people, us Slytherins, Potter on the other hand…well, he can be rather hot headed, can't he? And when they find your corpse, woefully mutilated…"

"You won't draw him out," I replied, smiling a little, "Because he's another person who would have done well in Slytherin."

"Maybe. Maybe not. It's worth a try anyways. We'll find him. And then he'll get what's been coming to him."

I smiled a little, "You will never be able to find Harry. Not even Voldemort could find him for months and he had a special connection with him." I said, mostly to cover my worries. Malfoy had a point. Maybe it would work – losing someone else might very well be the one thing he'd need to draw him out of hiding.

Hermione had taken months to convince him that it was necessary to go into hiding at least until they had more information about what was going on.

The last time I had seen Hermione, she had said that the time was coming close – that Harry wouldn't stay in hiding for much longer.

Once again my thoughts drifted to my daughter. Maybe Harry could take her along with him. If he had managed to stay hidden for so long he'd manage the same with my daughter.

Suddenly, I felt my head become a little lighter and my eyelids heavier. I smiled a little, knowing that it wouldn't be much longer.

He must have noticed, too, because he knelt down before me, "So, tell me, Ginerva, do you regret it? Do you regret killing yourself?"

"No," I shook my head, "It might seem like the coward's way out but at least this way I won't give anything away. I am ready to go."

"Are you?" he smirked a little, "And what if I was to tell you that we found the letter you hid for Harry?"

"It doesn't matter," I replied, though, of course, it did make everything harder, "You won't understand it. And I have contingency plans. It's not the only letter."

All of a sudden, he grabbed my head and lowered his lips onto mine. Forcing my mouth open, he inserted his tongue and kissed me thoroughly.

"What was that?" I asked, as I pulled away.

"A good bye," he said, smiling at me as he stood up, "You could have had it all, Ginerva. You could have been my wife, we could have been a family."

"A family," I scoffed, "We wouldn't have been a family," I said, smiling a little, "You don't know what it means to be a family."

"Maybe not," he conceded as I closed my eyes. My time was coming. I was not going to live for much longer.

He began to undress me, but I could no longer bring myself to care. I let my thoughts drift back to my childhood. As I closed my eyes, I could see the burrow. I was running around happily. My parents were watching over me from the kitchen, looking out the window, whilst my older brothers were playing Quidditch. Next to me, suddenly, a small girl appeared. Camellia.

"Camellia," I muttered, quietly, opening my eyes again. I found that I as completely naked and that Malfoy was holding his knife in his hand again. He was cutting open my belly and I noticed, with a strange detachedness that I was going to bleed out soon.

I looked up at him and saw that he was a little blurry. I wasn't sure what caused this – the blood loss or the poison I had taken.

I closed my eyes again and imagined a different future. One where I was still alive, where I was raising Camellia. The girl who was always so serious, whom I hadn't seen smile once in the last five years – she truly hadn't had much to smile about, I had to concede – was running around, laughing loudly.

The last time I opened my eyes, Malfoy was standing above me, the bloody knife discarded. "He'll get you, you know," I said, smiling.

I believe that Malfoy nodded, but I do not know for sure. Suddenly, my eyes were very heavy.

In those last few moments, I regretted killing myself. I had so much more to live for. I had so much more I had wanted to do. I let a single tear escape my eyes as I closed my eyes for the last time.

I should have held on, I should have had trust. I should have been there for my daughter. But, as I gasped for breath, I knew that it was too late. I was going to die, I knew, and the clearer I knew it, the more I began to fight against it. But, in the end, it didn't matter. It was over.

I took a last breath and I was so sure that I could smell flowers. Camellias and Lilies. And then, I felt a warm light engulf me and I felt lighter than I had felt in a very long time.

My last thoughts went out to Ron, Hermione, Harry and Camellia. Then, it was over. I was gone. For a moment longer, I let my presence linger in the room before I let myself be swept off to the next step in the journey.

It was time to move on. I had fought all my life. It was time to let go.

And so I let go. I let go of all my anger, my mistakes, my regrets, my shame. I let go of all hate. And I felt so incredibly light, so incredibly pure.

With one last loving thought towards everything I was leaving behind, I let the wind scatter me and my consciousness ceased to exist.


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The following morning, my alarm clock didn't wake me. Instead, a noise in my kitchen did. I got up, quickly, pulling the knife that I kept under my pillow out, and walked down the stairs to confront the burglar.

That was the second time I threatened Celia with my knife, "I thought you were someone else," I offered as I stood there, watching Celia wipe away the water she had spilt when I startled her.

"Who would I be?" she asked, sarcastically, "Santa Claus?"

"No," I shook my head, before I made my way back upstairs to take my shower and get dressed.

"What on earth is his problem?" Celia asked. I don't think I was supposed to hear, but I couldn't help but smirk a little.

A few minutes later, I was back downstairs. I picked up the phone and ordered two different advertisements to be published in the Newspaper.

One was a man holding his arm high. An owl was flying above him, circling. Message Received.

The second was a wand. Nothing more and nothing less – or, maybe, it was simply a pretty stick. It didn't matter. Magic Resurfaced.

I smiled to myself when, suddenly, the doorbell rang. Before I could even get up, Celia had jumped up and ran towards the door, grinning widely.

"Hello," she greeted the boy at the door.

"Who are you?" he asked.

I didn't give Celia time to reply, "What are you doing here?" I asked, recognizing the newspaper boy.

"I thought something might have happened to you," the boy explained, "You see, Mr. J, the one time you didn't pick up your newspaper as soon as I delivered it, you ran a rather high fever. As I recall you spent the better part of a month in the hospital because no one found you."

"As touching as your concern is," I said, snatching the newspaper from his hand, "It is completely unnecessary."

I slammed the door shut in his face and sighed a little.

"That was unnecessary, too," Celia added, just as the clock chimed. 7:32.

Again, Celia jumped and once again I sighed, "I'm running behind, today," I said, taking a bit of my toast before I went to the next room. Celia trailed after me like a lost puppy, "What are we going to do today?"

"I have to go shopping. And then we'll have to enroll you."

"But it's June," Celia complained, "School is nearly over."

"Be that as it may," I replied, pulling out a book from the shelf, "We're going to see the headmaster today. Now, go do something. I don't want to be disturbed for the next couple of hours."

"Isn't this a public library?" the girl asked, confused.

"Yes, still, no one ever comes here." I said, before I started to read. Celia walked around between the shelves for a while, pulling out books here and there until I told her – rather harshly, I'm afraid – not to make a mess. Celia then simply took the book she was holding at the moment and sat down, right where she was standing, reading the book.

Suddenly, the door chimed. "Yes?" I asked, looking up.

"Hello, Mr. J," the boy that had visited in the morning said, smiling a little.

"Hello," I replied, "What do you want?"

"I was wondering if your daughter might want to join us young folks at the bonfire tonight."

"I'm not his daughter – and thank God for that," Celia interrupted, coming out from behind the shelf.

"Yes, thank God," I echoed, "And no, she can't. We have errands to run."

"But not all day, Uncle Phil," Celia said, suddenly calling me 'Uncle Phil'. – trying to smooze, I supposed.

"We'll see," I replied, "So, do you need a book, too, or are you just here to annoy me?" I asked, glaring at the boy who, in turn, simply smiled back and began walking around between the shelves. I saw Celia following him and no matter how much I disapproved of her having any sort of social contact to the villagers I knew that I could do nothing to stop her.

However, the boy didn't stay very long. He was too scared of me, I supposed, or maybe he had some errand to run. It didn't matter, as long as he was gone.

At two, I closed the library and got my money. Together, we walked into town, drawing a lot of looks – most probably because I was never seen with anyone. In all my years there I had never been a very social person.

Our first stop was the school. I pushed the door open and allowed Celia to walk before me down the hallway. Behind us, the door fell shut with a bang. We made our way down the hall and towards the offices. Even though I had never been in the school they were easy to find as the school was rather tiny.

I knocked on the door and a young woman opened the door, "Mister Jameson," she said, surprised.

"Is the headmistress here?" I asked, entering the room with Celia trailing behind me.

"Yes," the woman nodded, "If you'll hold on for just a second."

She smiled again and left the room. "Do you have to be this way?" Celia asked.

"What way?" I feigned ignorance.

"You know, if you'd just smile back and start a conversation or two maybe people would actually like you."

"What if I don't want people to like me?" I asked, frowning at her.

"Of course you want people to like you – everyone does."

I sighed a little and said nothing as I turned back towards the door through which the woman had disappeared. A few seconds later, she opened the door again. "The Headmistress is ready for you now."

I walked through the door only to be faced with a stern-looking woman about ten years my senior. She looked as disinclined to smile as I was and I couldn't help but grin a little as she stood up from her chair to greet us.

"Hello, Mister Jameson," the woman said, gesturing towards the chairs which stood on the other side of her desk.

"Nice to meet you," I replied, shaking her hand as I took a seat. Celia was just standing in the door next to the secretary.

"This is Celia, my niece," I said, gesturing towards the girl, "She just moved in with me…"

"And you want to enroll her."

"Yes," I nodded, "I was wondering whether it was too late in the year to do so."

"Well, it is your choice, really," the woman said, "I assume you have all the necessary papers?"

"Of course," I nodded and pulled out the papers that Dudley had given me.

The headmistress put on her glasses and studied the paper for a few minutes before smiling weakly, "Well, everything seems to be in order."

"Then you can expect Celia here tomorrow morning at eight," I said, standing up and shaking the woman's hand before guiding Celia out of the room.

"Why?" Celia asked as soon as we were out of earshot, "Do I have to go to school tomorrow?"

"What else would you do?" I asked, turning to face her, "You need to meet the others otherwise they'll become too curious."

"Right. So I need to meet them but I can't be friends with them?"

"Try to blend in, Celia." I said, exiting the school and walking over to the grocery store.

"Is that what you're doing?" the girl asked, pulling up an eyebrow, "Because it seems to me that everyone here knows you."

"They know of me," I corrected the girl as I took a cart and began to fill it with groceries, "Just like they will know of you, soon."

Celia sighed and nodded.

"What do you want?" I asked her, deciding that maybe I should try and make her feel a little more welcome, "Any special treat?"

She looked up, startled, before pulling a box of cereal out of the cupboard. I sighed and grabbed an extra carton of milk before approaching the cash register.

"Anything else?" I asked her, but she just shook her head.

"Good," I nodded and put my purchases into plastic bags. Handing two of the bags to Celia, I left the store and headed straight home.

"So, what are we going to do now?" Celia asked after we had finished putting the groceries into the cupboards.

"I'm going to read," I replied, "As long as you don't make any noise, I don't really care what you do."

Celia nodded and walked upstairs. I assumed that she was going to her room and so I pulled out the envelope that I had handed to the headmistress and went through the papers. It seemed that Celia was an average student. It seemed that Creative Writing was the only subject in which he really excelled. I shrugged a little and was about to put the papers away again when my eyes fell on the last sheet of paper, tucked between her first-grade report card and the certificate proving that she attended ballet classes in kindergarten was something that I hadn't expected.

Adoption papers. Granting me full custody of Celia Dursley.

I quickly put the papers back into the envelope and put the envelope into my desk, locking the drawer.

Suddenly, I knew that Celia was standing behind me again and I swirled around, "Hungry?" I asked.

The girl nodded and I went into the kitchen and began to prepare dinner while Celia was sitting on the counter, watching me.

"You know, Uncle Phil," the girl said, suddenly, "I think you're a really bitter and old man. I don't know what dad thought he was doing when he sent me here."

"I suppose your dad was too scared to really think properly when he sent you here."

"Scared?" Celia asked, confused.

"He's always been scared of magic," I shrugged a little as I stirred, "I don't pretend to understand. Because no matter how bitter I am I'd never give away my daughter."

"He didn't give me away," the girl said, defending her father, "And it's not as though he had any other choice – I have to learn to control my magic."

"Celia, you can already control your magic. You can suppress it. Every child automatically learns that."

"Then why did you take me in?" she asked, "I thought you took me in to teach me how to use magic, but you already said you're not going to do that and since I already know how to suppress it – why couldn't I stay with my family?"

"Because, in a way, your father was right: Magic is dangerous. It's not a child's game. And I know enough to know that in the beginning, you would suppress it but then you'd get curious. You'd start experimenting, pushing your limits until, one day, in a big, gigantic leap you'd cross the line. And the consequences would be disastrous."

"So you're here to teach me that I shouldn't use magic." The girl summarized, "So why didn't you do the same? Why did you use magic?"

"Because it was different back then," I replied, pulling the pot from the stove, "Back then, we were an entire society. There was a system, a balance. When a witch or wizard acted out, when they threatened to cross the line there was a government in place to make sure that that would not happen."

The girl stared at me and blinked slowly, "Right, that's it for today," I said, putting the food on plates and handing her a spoon.

"What do you do when you're not in the library or reading elsewhere?" the girl asked, suddenly.

I didn't reply immediately and just took a bite, "That," I said, slowly, "is none of your business."

The girl nodded immediately, mumbled an apology and began to eat her food in silence.

I assume that she had expected a different response. Maybe she had thought I was warming up to her. But I wasn't. I couldn't let myself – she was Dudley's daughter. And as much as I despised it when people judged me due to my parents' actions I couldn't help but do the same to Celia.

Suddenly, I couldn't just sit there anymore. I got up and put my plate in the sink before I turned around and walked up the stairs towards the attic. At the door, I pulled out my key and unlocked the door, aware that there had been a time when this lock would not have kept anyone out. When I could cast wards with just the blink of my eye.

I pulled open the door and entered, locking it behind myself. I smiled a little as I looked around. This room had been my refuge for years now. When I had first moved in with the old librarian, he offered me this room and I had taken my things out of storage.

I let my eyes sweep across the familiar room, the bookshelves filled with magical texts and artifacts, the pictures that had once contained moving memories and that were now frozen and hung on the wall, the stacks of old newspapers documenting Voldemort's rise and fall and the depletion of magic, the potions rack filled with now completely useless ingredients, potions and creams, the exercise machines and the chair which stood in the middle of the room.

Next to the chair was a stack of books that I had recently read and yet to put back into the shelf. I smiled as I picked up the top book – Hogwarts: a history. Once again I was reminded of Hermione. Nearly automatically I looked up at the picture which hung in plain view. It portrayed Ron, Hermione and myself.

Once, Ron had grinned and slung an arm around my shoulder before boxing me in a friendly manner whilst I evaded his punch, at the same time pulling Hermione, who was rolling her eyes at our antics, closer towards us.

Now, though, we were stuck somewhat in between. An awkward distance had been created. I sighed and picked up the next book in order to put them into the shelf. The only book which I left out was the first one, Hermione's favorite.

I don't know how I came to be the librarian when it so obviously should have been Hermione. But she had said that she couldn't keep the books since that'd be exactly what they would expect. And so we put most of them in storage under one of my assumed identities. Hermione told me time and time again that I should collect the tings as soon as possible to avoid detection.

And thus I had built up this sanctuary. I bent down before the bookcase, looking at the lowest row of books. These were my Hogwarts books.

Should I give Celia access to some of these texts? After all, what sort of a librarian guards his books instead of letting the public read them?

This notion only lasted for a short moment. After all, I knew how dangerous knowledge could be and I had no intention of tempting Celia.

This is until my eyes fell on the series of history books that I had forced myself through. I smiled a little and picked them up. Maybe this would be good literature for Celia. Maybe this would give her something to do should she ever begin to bother me about magic again.

I startled when I heard a noise from downstairs and dropped the books. I quickly unlocked the door and ran down the stairs towards the kitchen. I was sure that something horrific had happened.

However, as soon as I entered the kitchen I knew that that was not the case. Celia was bent over, picking up the shards of a plate.

"What happened?" I asked.

"I'm sorry, Uncle Phil," the girl said, looking up, "It's just, well, I was washing the plates when an owl crashed against the window and I was so startled I dropped the plates and broke them."

"An owl?" I asked, looking at her, "Are you sure?"

"Yes, rather," the girl nodded, "It was white owl. I think…I think she might have been carrying a piece of paper in her talons."

I grasped the chair for stabilization as I suddenly got a little dizzy. An owl carrying a letter. Owls had been one of the first things to disappear from our daily lives. Letters would get lost more and more frequently until the last owls had simply been let go.

It wasn't really possible that owls were suddenly back without any human interference. Who could have put a spell as advanced as this on an owl? And who was using the owls?

I had lost Hedwig years before that happened, but watching pig fly away, out of the window and into the dark sky had seemed rather finale. It was then I had known that the beginning of the end had really arrived.

I went outside and really, there, before the window lay a white owl. As I bent down to get a closer look, I saw that she really was carrying a letter written on parchment. How long had it been since I'd touched parchment.

As I unrolled the scroll, I saw that whoever had written the letter had used a quill and, from the way it was written, it seemed like whoever it was had been using quills all their life. To my astonishment, it was addressed to me.

"_Potter,_

_I am sending this letter in the hope that you are, contrary to popular belief, still alive. I don't know how many of these letters I have written to you in the past few years. The owl always came back – without the letter. _

_Maybe you got all my letters and are simply not replying. Though I cannot imagine that. On the other hand, why would you? After all, I give no reason for you to trust me. I give you no name, no details and no proof._

_Merlin, I sound like a rambling fool. Anyways, I am writing to tell you that trouble is brewing. Magic is resurfacing, slowly. Mostly in Muggleborns._

_You are familiar with the old families' believes. There is movement. For years I have been watching and now I can see a regrouping. A shift in power._

_Potter, they are planning something. And, knowing the fools they are, it's something terrible. Something that will backfire eventually._

_I am pleading with you – do something. I know you. You are not as out of touch with the rest of us as we might think. And if anyone can do something then you can._

_Thank you for at least reading my letter."_

I lowered the letter slowly and picked up the owl that was still out cold. "What happened to her?"

"Her?" I asked, looking up at Celia, "How could you possibly know that?"

"I don't know," she smiled a little awkwardly, "Doesn't she look like a she to you?"

I just shrugged and carried both the owl and the letter inside. "What are you going to do with her?" Celia asked, following me inside.

"I don't know," I shrugged again.

"Can we keep her?"

"She belongs to someone," I replied, "We have to send her back."

"Look at her wing, Uncle Phil," Celia said, "I think it may be broken."

I sighed and nodded. Celia was right. Once again I wished for my magic back.

"Can't we do something?" the girl asked.

I nodded, "We could take her to a vet, but the nearest one is two villages away. No, I think we'll wait."

"But she may die. Or she may never be able to fly again."

"If she is a magical owl, she won't need a vet. She'll just need a few weeks' rest. And if she isn't, then I wonder how she managed to deliver a letter."

"So the letter was for you?"

I nodded again and turned my attention back towards the letter. Who had sent it? Obviously someone I had known. From the way it was written I was nearly entirely certain that whoever it was was a pureblood and had contacts in the former 'high society'.

Maybe I should have stayed in touch, then I might have had a better idea who could have sent that letter. But, as it was, there was nothing I could do except get another advertisement published. This time I chose an owl carrying a question mark. Its talons were cut off and it seemed to smile – as much as cartoon owls can, that is. Mysterious contact or contact with unknown allegiance made. No danger.

I sighed, knowing that I was publishing too many advertisements in a short time. Someone could get suspicious, after all most of the images clearly alluded to magic. Thus, I quickly placed three more calls ordering another advertisement and cancelling my subscription. The last call was to a different newspaper.

Hermione would understand and do the same tomorrow. From now on the two of us would pass our messages via a different newspaper and through the personal ads instead of the advertisements.

As I put down the phone, I had made my decision. I wouldn't do anything. As horrible as it sounded, it wasn't my problem anymore. I had saved them once.

At least that's what I tried to tell myself. The fact was, I had also caused the collapse of everything that was controlling them. For the first time I wondered whether, maybe, Hermione had been wrong. Maybe we shouldn't have split up like this. Maybe all of us should have stayed behind.

Instead, we had split up each with our own mission. Hermione was to infiltrate the muggle law enforcement under a different name. That way she'd have access to most resources and suspicious activities would not be missed.

Ginny was to make contact with the old pureblood circles. Find out what they are up to – because we were certain of one thing: they would definitely be up to something to gain back what they had lost. She was the only one who was using her real name. After all, despite being a blood traitor, she was still a pureblood.

Ron was to travel around, looking for signs of magic. He was following rumors that Hermione and Ginny heard looking for magic.

It seemed that I was the only one who didn't do something productive. I was the only one who hid away. Hermione had argued, again and again, that I'd be in the most danger. That they'd all be looking for me. She'd argued and argued, saying that I couldn't infiltrate Purebloods since, well, I wasn't one and that travelling around, following rumors of magic would be too dangerous, too, since others might very well do the same.

And when I proposed that I could do her job, she just smirked a little and reminded me that she was the one with the brains. She was right, of course. And so I was stuck here, in this little town, guarding what was left of magic.

Whoever had sent me the letter probably assumed that I was still the same man I had been before. During the war I would never have imagined living as I did now – in hiding. I was reckless; I went into everything head-first without thinking for a second.

What had changed me?

I sighed a little and put the letter into my pocket before I went upstairs back towards my room, carrying the owl. As I walked up the stairs, I suddenly saw that I had left the door to the attic open. I got my key out of my pocket and approached the door, when I saw Celia standing in the middle of the room.

"What are you doing?" I asked, angrily.

Celia whirled around from where she had been standing, looking at one of the pictures. She dropped it and it clanged to the floor with a bang, breaking.

"I'm so sorry," she said, looking down. I sighed and picked it up and placed it on the shelf. It was an old picture, taken after my first year at Hogwarts on Kings Cross.

I immediately knew why Celia had picked the picture – it depicted Hermione, Ron and myself, surrounded by other wizards and witches. It was probably the first picture she saw as proof that the world really had existed.

But that was not the reason why she had picked it. She had picked it, because, in the background, Dudley, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon stood, looking over.

"Is that dad and his family?" Celia asked.

"Yes," I nodded, walking over to where I had dropped the history books. "Well, I suppose it's good that you came here, these," I handed her the stack, "are for you."

"For me?"

"To read. I want them back in pristine condition. They are one of a kind, after all."

Hermione had spent months working on the charm to extract all magic from the books to keep them from disintegrating when magic failed. A few of the really old books Hermione had even copied out by hand.

Celia nodded and looked at the owl, "What are you going to do with her?"

"Put her in a cage," I replied, "I wouldn't want her flying away and bringing someone back, now would I?"

"No, I suppose not. Good night, Uncle Phil."

"Celia," I said, suddenly, "You will not enter this room again, do you understand me? There are only two rooms which are off limit to you – this room and my bedroom. And I will not have you invade my privacy again. Now, I realize that I forgot to lock the door and that I never explicitly said that you couldn't come in here – but now you know and I won't have you here."

The girl looked at me, defiantly, and I thought she was going to argue but then, with one last, wistful look at the room, she left.

I sat down on my chair and put the owl on my lap, "What am I going to do with you?" I asked, stroking her feathers gently. Somehow, she reminded me of Hedwig.

I walked over to the book shelf and pulled out a book on Quidditch. I shook it a little and a single leaf of paper fell out. Smiling a little, I put the book back into the shelf and bent down. It was a muggle picture, taken on Dudley's seventeenth birthday. When the Dursleys had left to go into hiding, I had taken the picture along.

Not because I loved them so much and couldn't live without their picture. But also not because I wanted to annoy them. It was a reminder as to why I was fighting. I was fighting for families like the Dursleys and the Weasleys. And, despite it all, they were family.

And now I was looking at the picture, wondering if maybe it was time to give the picture back. Or at least to give the picture to Celia. I had seen how hungrily she had stared at the picture she had shattered earlier despite the fact that her family wasn't really in focus at all.

No, I decided, I would not give her the picture. At least not yet.

And thus I smiled a little and put the picture away before I left the room and went to sleep. I left the owl behind in the attic and locked the door behind myself. I couldn't let the owl escape. Who knew whom she could bring back.

At 6:24, like every morning, the alarm rang. I rolled over and hit the snooze button. A few minutes later, the alarm rang again and I rolled out of the bed, pulled my robe around myself and went downstairs.

I took the butter out of the fridge, put the kettle on the stove and popped two slices of toast into the toaster. For a moment I hesitated before I took a bowl, a spoon, the milk carton and the cereal out of the cabinets and placed them on the table.

I smiled a little before I turned around and made my way upstairs to take a shower. As I did so I could hear Celia move around her room. It was strange, I found, to have someone living with me. For nearly fifteen years I had been all alone and now, suddenly, Celia was living with me again.

I took my shower, brushed my teeth and got dressed before walking downstairs. As I entered the kitchen, I saw Celia sitting at the table, eating the cereal and smiling a little. I nearly returned the smile when the kettle whistled and I wondered why I was a little early when I remembered that I had forgotten to get the newspaper.

I was about to go outside when Celia called out to me, "Mark brought the paper in while you were upstairs," she said, smiling.

I nodded, turned around and poured myself some tea, "Do you want some?" I asked, holding up the kettle. Celia just shook her head and continued eating as I sat down and spread the butter on my toast. I began to leaf through the paper. Hermione had encoded a message and I couldn't help but smile a little.

She wanted to meet. I could feel my heart begin to race as I remembered the last time I had seen her on the day that magic had finally failed.

I skimmed over the announcement again to make sure I had it right, "_Kita looking for Roaring Lion. Contact Newspaper for more information."_

I smiled a little. Roaring Lion might be a bit obvious, but it didn't matter. The announcement gave neither time nor place. Kita – an acronym for Know-it-all – was Hermione's nom de plume.

I knew where and when we'd meet. That had been arranged earlier. We'd meet exactly one day after the announcement had been published in a small café that we had used while undercover during the war.

Suddenly, the clock chimed and Celia jumped a little. "You should get going," I told her and she nodded. I had a lot of things to prepare for the following day. I would have to leave early in the morning in order to be at the café on time. After all, it wouldn't do to let Hermione wait.

Celia left quickly whilst I got up and went next door. I spent the whole day staring down at my book, unable to concentrate.

"Hello," the bell rang suddenly, and I looked up.

"Yes?" I asked, looking at the stout man that had entered the room.

"Hello," he smiled a little, "My name is Smith, and I was wondering if I could ask you a couple of questions."

I looked at him and pulled up an eyebrow without replying. Apparently it wasn't needed either since the man just nodded and took a seat, smiling at me.

He didn't say anything and I wasn't inclined to begin speaking either, so we just sat there, staring at one another. "How did you do it?" I asked, suddenly, realizing who it was that I was talking to, "This…this is impossible."

"Not quite, Mr. Potter," the man said, and though I could see no sneer on the round face before me I knew that it was there – just buried beneath the surface.

"What do you want?" I asked, without moving, "Why have you come here now?"

"Because you know where Ms. Weasley is."

"Actually, I don't," I replied, "I haven't seen her since _that day_."

"Really?" the man asked, pulling up an eyebrow before leaning closer towards me, "See, I don't believe you. You're Harry Potter. You are involved in everything – and something as reckless as Ms. Weasley's _mission_," he sneered openly now, "Now, I'd bet anything on the fact that you're involved."

"You'd be wrong," I replied, evenly, though my heart was racing, "I'll have you know that I have no part in your world anymore. I have no contact. It doesn't exist anymore."

"Oh, Mister Potter, that society will never cease to exist. Now, tell me where I can find Ms. Weasley. What did she send you?"

"I got nothing. I know nothing about her mission. And if Ginny got into trouble, well, I can assure you that it was all her idea."

"So you're saying that you really have no idea? I was of the impression that you two are…more than just friends."

"We used to be," I replied, shrugging, "At the moment we're less than just friends. As I said before, I haven't seen her since _that_ day,"

_That day_, just like the magical world could never say Voldemort, they couldn't say the day that magic failed. Instead they settled for euphemisms: you-know-who. _That_ _day_.

"I see," the man nodded though I wasn't sure whether he believed me.

"Now," I said, standing up, "How did you find me? How are you still alive for that matter?"

"That," the man said, smirking at me, "Is for me to know and for you to find out."

I nodded and sat back down, "I'm sure you can find your own way out."

"You know, Potter," the man said, suddenly, "I see that the rumors are correct. You're not coming back to save the world – you need to be saved yourself."

"I'm fine," I replied, just as I had so often said, trying to assure everyone around me that nothing was wrong with me.

"No," the man shook his head, "You're not. The Harry Potter I knew would never hide in a tiny muggle village like this, hiding from is destiny, from his duty. And he definitely would never have just let me enter and leave like this."

"Why wouldn't I let you enter and leave?" I asked, pulling up an eyebrow, "We both know why you did what you did. You're no danger to me, you're no threat to me."

The man scoffed, "You're a coward." He said, turning around to leave.

"Maybe," I replied, "Or maybe I've just grown up and learned to pick my battles."

"Pick you battles, Potter, how very Slytherin of you."

"Well, the hat always did say I would have made a good Slytherin." I smiled a little, leaning back. "Tell me, what happened to Ginny?"

"I don't know," the man replied, "She found something about the plan. She got a message to me, telling me that she knew what they were doing. She told me where to meet, but she never showed up."

"You'll have me believe that you and Ginny worked together?" I smiled a little ironically.

"Well, the situation required it of us," he shrugged, "It was a beneficial arrangement for the both of us. And we knew we could trust each other."

"Right," I scoffed a little, "So you're telling me that you worked together, that she found something and promptly disappeared and that the first thing you do afterwards is come look for me?"

He smirked a little, "Indeed."

"So, tell me, how did you find me?" I tried again, "Don't tell me you talked to Lovegood."

"I didn't. It was rather stupid of you to take that owl in," he smirked, "But then again, sending her away would have been just as stupid. Muggles really do have better technology than I gave them credit for."

"GPS," I sighed, leaning back, "Well, I can't say I'm surprised. You always adapted rather well. But I'd bet everything that you did not write that letter. It's not you."

"Not _me_?" the man laughed a short, dry laugh, "You think you know me?"

"No, but I know that way you talk to me." I replied, smirking. He only nodded slightly admitting that I was right, "So, who wrote the letter?"

The man simply grinned and shook his head and I knew that he would not tell me.

"So why me?" I asked, "Why would Ginny send it to me after all these years?"

"Why you?" the man asked, "You're Harry Potter. She said she sent a contingency plan to someone she trusted."

"Well, she didn't send me anything," I replied, shrugging, "She doesn't even know where I live."

"If I could find you so could she," the man said, scoffing a little, "She knows you better than anyone else."

"She wouldn't send it to me, she'd send it to Hermione," I said, when, suddenly, the cuckoo-clock rang.

"It's two-oh-four," I said, smiling, "If you'll excuse me. I assume that you won't tell any of our mutual acquaintances of my location?"

"Of course not," he smiled a little when the door opened.

"Uncle Phil," Celia exclaimed as she entered, "I…who are you?"

"Celia," I scolded, frowning a little, "Is that how you treat my guests?"

"So I'm your _guest_ now, Potter?" I could see his lip twitching.

"Potter?" the girl asked, "So you're…one of them?"

"I am a wizard."

"Celia, this is _Smith_," I said, emphasizing the false name that I had been given, "This is my cousin's daughter, Celia."

I put a hand on her shoulder and pulled her towards me. "No need to be so protective, I won't eat her. So this is that whale's daughter?"

"Hey," the girl exclaimed but I couldn't help but chuckle quietly.

"Why are you raising her?" he asked.

"That is none of your business." I said, "Weren't you going to leave?"

"Yes," he replied, "Contact me if you hear anything," he said, handing me a card. As he did so his sleeve moved a little and I could see the old and too familiar tattoo. I touched it carefully.

"Sometimes I think it was a dream," I said.

"I never do," he said, "I am constantly reminded." With that he finally turned around and left. I stared after him for a while when suddenly Celia said something.

"What did you just say?" I asked, turning to face her.

"Who was that?" she asked.

"No one," I replied, though I was still staring after him. What had happened to Ginny? Did Hermione know anything about it?

Finally I turned around, "Are you hungry?"

"Starving," the girl said, grinning, "What's for lunch?"


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

I sat in the car, looking out the window, lost in thought. I hated stake outs. Especially when I knew just as well as my partner did that the building was empty and would remain empty for the duration of our shift.

I sighed a little and leaned my head against the cool glass. I hated stake outs – they always reminded me of times long ago. Of hours spent in the dark, my wand clutched in my hand. On my left, Harry would be cowering next to me, squinting into the night, biting his lip. Ron, on my other side, would be leisurely leaning against a tree or wall.

And then, suddenly, from one second to the next, everything would change. Harry would always be the first to notice. I don't think he ever saw anything as much as he felt it. When something was wrong, when something was going to happen, he always knew. And so he jumped up and put up his wand. Next to me, Ron would do the same. His previously slumped stature was straightened and he was completely aware, from head to toe.

I'd already be up, too, my wand casting one shield after the other.

"_How many?" _I'd ask, invariably.

Ron would smirk and say, "_Too few. We could handle more."_

And we could. Harry would start casting the first offensive spell. Ron would join immediately and before they'd even realize they were attacked, it was over.

I never lowered my shield, covering the three of us, even as Harry approached the fallen Death Eaters, stretching the shield thin. "_Do we know them?" _I always asked. And more often than not we did. Mostly they were people we'd gone to school with or their parents.

"Donut?" a voice called me back to the present.

It took me a moment to get my bearings, "Huh?" I asked.

"Want one?" my partner, Rob, asked, offering me a box of donuts.

"Sure," I replied, picking one and turning back to face him, "I could use a good night's sleep in my own bed."

"Tell me about it. Why do we always get the night shift?"

"Don't ask me," I shrugged, "I'm not the one married to the chief."

"You're the one who pissed Detective Johnson off, though." He grinned at me, taking a bite off his own donut, "You should never, ever do that. Detective Johnson's got connections."

"I know," I replied, taking a bite, too, "So, how are your kids?"

"Fine," he smiled a little, "At least I think they are. It's not like I get to see them a lot."

"I said I was sorry," I said, suddenly a bit impatient.

"Relax, I was just teasing."

"I know, it's just that, well, today isn't a good day."

"What's the matter?" Rob asked, turning to face me.

"Nothing," I replied, leaning back as I took another bite, "It's just that I'm meeting an old friend today."

"An old friend?" Rob asked, smirking a little, "Or an _old friend_?"

"Just a friend that I haven't seen in a while," I said, "Hey, is that our suspect?" I asked, pointing to a random guy in the street, in order to get Robs attention away from the conversation.

"No," Rob said, without even looking as he took another bite from his donut, "Now, tell me about that friend. When did you last see him?"

"23 – Adam, this is dispatch, we've got a suspected 187 under the Vauxhall bridge," the radio suddenly came to life.

Rob looked at me and grinned, "Saved by the radio," he said as he started the car.

"23 – Adam, understood," I replied, "we're on our way. ETA in five minutes."

"Copy that," the voice returned.

"Great," I sighed, "Just what I needed today. A homicide – I'm never going to be home in time."

"You think I want this?"

I waved it off and looked out the window, "Hey, you missed a turn," I said, turning to face Rob next to me.

"I know, I know," he said, turning the car around in a wild u-turn before taking the right turn.

A few minutes later, he pulled the car to a stop and we got out, carefully. Our guns were pulled out and we made our way towards the bridge. I pulled out my torch and looked around for the body that had been reported.

Suddenly, I saw the body. I dropped the flashlight and closed my eyes. I should have known.

"What is it?" Rob asked, behind me, his own torch in his hands.

"There's a body," I said, sighing a little, nodding over to the bridge.

Rob moved his torch around until he found the body. "And there's a lot of blood," he said, stating the obvious.

"I know," I nodded, still shaken.

Rob called for backup and then approached the body, carefully. "We'll have to secure the crime scene," he said.

I nodded again but, nonetheless, began to work.

"What is it with you?" Rob asked as we worked.

"Nothing," I said, shaking my head as I placed my little card down and put up the police tape. The backup arrived half an hour later in the form of detective Johnson.

"Great," I moaned quietly, "Just who I was missing."

"He's not that bad," Rob said, causing me to just pull up an eyebrow, "He isn't."

"Not to you because you're married to the chief and he has to suck up to you. He doesn't have that same problem with me."

Rob sighed and turned to face the man, who had approached during our conversation though e was thankfully still out of earshot.

"Kita, Grison," he nodded at us before looking over at the body, "What can you tell me?"

"Not much," I replied, shrugging, "We just arrived ourselves. There was no one here and, well, we were just about to begin taking pictures."

"Is she carrying an ID?" the man asked.

"As I said," I repeated, "I was just about to take pictures before I was going to touch her," I replied, knowing that even if she was carrying an ID it wouldn't help us a whole lot.

I already knew who had killed her. Or at least, I had a pretty good idea. I approached the body and took the obligatory pictures before I touched her pockets and took their contents out. I looked around carefully before I slipped her wand into my pocket.

"Oh, Ginny," I said, quietly, touching her hair gently when Rob appeared behind myself.

"Did you know her?" he asked. I turned around and looked up seeing that he looked at me suspiciously. His eyes were narrowed and it seemed that he was challenging me in some way.

"Yes," I admitted, "She was nearly my sister-in-law." I said, looking down at her. And my best friend. And my only confidante for a long time. And my informer.

"I didn't know that you have a brother."

"I don't." I replied, sighing, "She was my ex-fiancé's sister."

"You were engaged?" he asked, astonished, "I've been your partner for more than ten years and I never knew that."

"I don't like to talk about it," I replied, looking down at Ginny.

Rob just looked at me, pulling up an eyebrow, "So, do you want to tell the family?"

"You won't find any family," I replied, "Her parents are dead. And her brothers…god knows where they are."

"Sometimes," he said, suddenly, looking at me, "I feel like I don't know you at all. Sometimes you seem like you're from a completely different world."

"Nonsense," I replied, smiling a little sadly, looking down at the body. Her red hair surrounded her like a halo and her freckles were still visible, "He'll pay," I muttered, quietly.

"You know who did this?" Rob asked, suddenly. I had forgotten that he was there.

"No," I shook my head. And it was true, I didn't know. I just had this nagging suspicion that Malfoy was the responsible one.

"Listen, I have to go," I said, suddenly, "I can't…" I got up and walked up the hill towards the car.

"Kita," a voice behind me suddenly shouted.

"Yes, detective Johnson?" I asked, turning around to face him.

"Where are you going?"

"Home," I replied.

"Oh no, you're not." The man said, "You're waiting here for the Doc."

"Yes, sir," I replied, walking back down towards the body whilst Johnson was walking towards the car.

"Keep me apprised," he ordered, "I'll be at the station."

I nodded and looked at the woman's body. "What happened to you?" I wondered quietly.

"Were you still in touch?" Rob asked suddenly.

"Sporadically." I nodded.

"What was her name?"

"Ginevra Molly Weasley." I replied.

"So, why didn't you marry her brother?" Rob asked, suddenly.

"It just didn't work out," I shrugged a little, "The timing was wrong."

Rob stood next to me in silence as I battled against the tears that were threatening to escape. I had seen so many people die during the war and still, this death seemed so pointless. The war was over. The only reason why she was dead was that I had sent her on this mission. This pointless mission that after over ten years still had not yielded any real results.

I mean, we knew that there was a plan and we knew that it involved the resurrection of magic and the magical community with purebloods as the most influential members of the new society but we had no real information.

Maybe Ginny had found the plan. Maybe she had discovered what it was that they were hiding. I looked down at the woman and couldn't help let my tears fall.

I vowed, in silence, that her death would not be in vain. I would find out why she had died and I would not make her sacrifice be in vain. Rob patted my shoulder awkwardly. Suddenly, I looked up, feeling as though someone was watching us.

At just that moment, the coroner's truck stopped and the Doc exited the truck and made her way down the hill, slowly.

"Isn't it a nice evening?" she asked, smiling a little, "So, who do we have here?" she asked, kneeling down beside Ginny. She began to examine her carefully and looked at the numerous cuts all over her body.

"Well, if I had to guess, I'd say she was sliced open and left to bleed out," the woman said, inserting a thermometer.

"Can you estimate a TOD?" Rob asked.

"Well, if I had to say, judging from the level of decomposition I'd say about two days. I'll be able to tell you more…" she said, looking up.

"...after the autopsy," Rob finished for her.

She smiled a little, nodding, before the smile slid off her face and she bent back down towards the body, "She didn't resist," the woman added, "There are no defensive wounds. Tough I can see marks here and here," she gestured towards the wrists and ankles, "which might indicate that she was tied to something and thus incapable of defending herself."

I looked down at the body. What had happened, I wondered. Why hadn't Ginny defended herself? Why hadn't she called me for help? She must have known that something was going on, she must have known that the mission wasn't worth her life.

No, I shook my head, there must have been a good reason why she did what she did.

"Well," the Doc said, "Rob, you'll help me carry her to the truck, won't you?"

Rob nodded and together the two slid the body into a black bag and zipped it shut before they carried it up the hill. I followed in a distance.

"Bye, Doc," Rob said, a few moments later as he slammed the door shut. The Doc honked in response and drove off.

"Come on," Rob said, "I'll drop you off at your apartment."

I nodded, grateful, "Thank you," I muttered.

We drove quietly without saying anything. "You know something that you're not telling me," Rob said, suddenly, as he stopped the car before my building.

"Not today, Rob, not now." I begged, "I can't…"

"Okay, not today. But I'm not letting it go just like this. You're not protecting anyone by keeping her secrets now."

_Yes, yes I am,_ I thought. _I'm protecting you, Rob._

I got out of the car, "Thank you for dropping me off," I said, closing the door. Rob quickly opened the window.

"Do you want me to come up?" he asked, but I simply shook my head.

"No, thank you, I need this time for myself." I replied as I walked towards the building. I picked up my mail and shuffled through it absentmindedly as I walked up the stairs when I suddenly froze. I had a letter from Ginny.

I ripped it open and dropped the rest of my mail as I began to skim over it.

"_Dear Hermione,_

_By now I am most likely dead. I am sorry. I should have told you about all of this from the start then we wouldn't be in this mess now._

_I don't have much time. They're close behind me. I left you something at my apartment._

_Please, hurry. I am counting on you. And so is Camellia._

_I am so sorry I kept this from you._

_I love you,_

_Ginny."_

I put the letter down and ran up the stairs without bothering to collect my mail. Right now I had to get to Ginny's apartment. As I looked through my drawer for the key to her apartment I wondered absentmindedly who Camellia was.

I finally found the key and ran down the stairs. I stopped a cab and gave it Ginny's address. Ten minutes later I was at the apartment. I walked up the stairs when I saw that there was a light turned on in her apartment. I was too late – someone was already in the apartment.

Still, I walked up the stairs and stopped before the door. I was pretty sure that whoever it was would not recognize me since I had changed in the last fifteen years. My hair was straightened and dyed blond and I was wearing blue contacts.

I unlocked the door, my gun at the ready. I went from one room to the next, but I couldn't find anyone. However, it was obvious that the room had been searched. The bed was moved to the side and one of the floorboards wasn't in its place.

I hoped dearly that whatever Ginny had hidden had not been found though I was pretty sure that there had been something under the floorboard.

As soon as I had finished that thought, I heard something from the kitchen and went over to investigate. I saw a man standing there, looking at a cup of tea which he promptly poured down the drain. At that moment I understood what had happened and gave a strangled gasp. She had used the poison I had given her, just in case, before we had parted that day before Grimauld place. I had slipped it into her pocket during our hug.

Suddenly, the man turned around and a red bolt darted towards me. "Impossible," I muttered just as I keeled over. It had been a very long time since I had been stunned. Magic truly was coming back.

When I woke up again, I was alone in the kitchen and the sun had risen. I looked at my watch and saw that I would have to meet Harry in just an hour. I got up and ran a hand through my hair before I made my way towards the door when the bell rang.

I looked through the viewer before opening the door.

"A registered letter for a Ms. Granger,"

I smiled a little – Ginny really had thought of everything. I signed for the letter and took the thick envelope before I left. I hailed another cab and forty minutes later I was at the café that I was supposed to meet Harry at.

As expected, he was already seated at one of the tables in the corner, watching the door carefully. He had changed – aged. His hair had white strands in them and he had grown a thick beard. I smiled a little and had to admit that it made it difficult for anyone who had known him before to recognize him.

He looked up and a smile spread across his face as he saw me. He got up as I walked over briskly and hugged me tightly. I was astonished that he recognized me immediately. Maybe my disguise wasn't as good as I had thought it was.

"Harry," I whispered quietly, "Something happened."

"What is it?" he asked as we took a seat. He looked at me and seemed to look straight through me, just like he always had.

"It's Ginny," I said, sighing a little, "She was killed. I found her body yesterday."

Was it already yesterday? I wondered, closing my eyes to repress the tears. I couldn't cry again. Harry didn't react at all. He just stared at the distance, not focusing on anything.

"Are you okay?" I asked, taking his hand in mine.

He nodded and rubbed his thumb over my fingers and suddenly I couldn't keep the tears back anymore. He raised his hand and wiped them away with his calloused fingers, stroking my cheeks slowly.

"It'll be fine, Hermione. Really."

I looked up at him and suddenly I saw that he wasn't as astonished as I had expected him to be. He wasn't as shaken.

"What is it?" I asked, suddenly.

"I knew about it," he said, frowning, "Or, I didn't know, I just suspected. I had a visitor a few days back telling me that Ginny was in trouble. So, what do you know?"

"Not much," I replied, sighing a little, "she sent me this," I said, pulling out the envelope that she had sent me.

I opened it and looked inside. There were several sheets of paper. I pulled out the first one, which was a letter addressed to Harry, Ron and myself.

"_Dear Hermione, dear Ron and, of course, dear Harry,_

_I hope this letter reaches you. I am leaving a second letter hidden in my apartment and I am posting a third letter. I hope one of these letters reaches you though I am sure that at least one of the letters will be intercepted._

_It doesn't matter. I will not make it easy for them to find what they are looking for. I don't have a lot of time so I can't explain myself as well as I would like to. _

_I have a daughter, her name is Camellia and she is ten years old. I should have told you about her earlier on, I know. I was just ashamed. Not of Camellia, never of Camellia. I love her. Tell her that. And tell her that I am sorry. So very sorry._

_Still I have regrets. Everyone has regrets. I regret that things couldn't have been the way that they should have been._

_Anyways, I need you to get Camellia and hide her. I just found out that Camellia is magical. Obviously, this makes her a target. I didn't realize what they were doing to her. Believe me, had I known, I would have acted earlier. I would never have let my daughter be put through everything she went through._

_I need you to visit an old friend of mine. The one you talked to, Harry, after Snuffles. I left Camellia with her but she can't stay there for very long._

_Please, pick her up and take her in. And, don't let anyone see her. They have connections everywhere – the police, the government even in business._

_I beg of you, please, find her. I have to hurry. I still have things left to arrange._

_I love you, all of you._

_Ginny._

_P.S: Hermione – thank you for the tea. Do not blame yourself. It was my choice. I knew what would happen but I couldn't keep running."_

I finished reading first and sighed a little – despite Ginny's assurances I would always blame myself. I had given her the tea and thus I had, effectively, killed her. Even if it was her choice.

I looked at the other papers that were enclosed in the envelope and could only see a set of adoption papers. She was giving custody of Camellia to Harry. This made sense, of course, he was in hiding and hadn't been found in fifteen years despite their best efforts.

A few moments later, Harry had finished reading the letter, too.

"Where is she?" I asked, looking at Harry. Only he knew who Ginny was talking about.

"I don't know," he replied, "I…well…she's obviously talking about Luna. Luna was the one who comforted me after everything had happened."

"So what's not to know?" I asked.

"Luna went insane," Harry replied, surprising me.

"We both know that Luna's a bit eccentric. But insane?" I scoffed a little, "You were always the one defending her against me."

"That was back then. I met Luna's daughter a few days ago – you were the one who sent her to me, remember?"

"That was Luna's daughter?"

I hadn't realized that. I had talked to her, of course, and made sure that she was no threat to Harry. I had known that her mother was a member of the DA, but I hadn't thought that it could be Luna.

She was so very different from Luna. Her eyes didn't have this far-away quality that Luna's did and her voice was nowhere as dreamy. And the way she talked – she allowed no room for debate or for this otherworldliness that her mother possessed.

Harry had been watching me for a while and I knew that he had asked something and was expecting a response. "I'm sorry – what were you saying?"

"So, do you think she left her with Luna?"

"Yes," I nodded, "I think she left her with Luna."

"The only question left now is: Where is Luna?" Harry said, bringing up a valid point, "She can't have stayed in one place and not been caught."

I immediately thought of Neville. And of Cho. And of Hannah. And Lavender. And of countless others that I probably hadn't heard about. After magic had failed, there were those who thought they were safe, who didn't go into hiding as most other people who had fought in the war had done.

They hadn't lived long. Angry people who blamed them for what happened had killed them. Neville and Hannah had been burned inside their house. Cho had been kidnapped and tortured. Lavender…I cut off my thoughts here, unwilling to delve further into the past. "No," I muttered instead, "She can't have."

"Unless she just did and no one bothered to check," Harry suddenly offered, "Maybe she just remained Luna. No one ever paid her much mind and she never paid anyone else much, either."

"Yes," I had to agree, "That is a possibility. And anyways, it's our only lead. The only place where we can start our search for Camellia."

"But it's so close to the burrow," Harry suddenly said, "Wouldn't her pursuers expect Ginny to be going there? Wouldn't that make it so much more dangerous?"

"She knows the area best," I argued, "She would have an advantage. And she would always have to take a risk. It was dangerous, no matter where she took Camellia."

"Okay," Harry nodded, "So, what do we do now?"

"We have to go there," I said, suddenly, "But first, we need to talk. You said you saw magic?"

"Yes," he nodded, "Dudley's daughter is a witch. She's living with me at the moment."

"A witch?" I asked, astonished, "Dudley's daughter?"

This, I truly hadn't expected. I sighed before telling Harry about the stunner I had caught the previous day. "So," Harry concluded, "Magic really is coming back."

"It seems so." I replied, nodding, "So, what do we do?"

"We wait," Harry replied, "We let it run its course. If magic will come back then it will."

I nodded, "So, when are we leaving to pick up Camellia?"

"You can't leave," he said, "You have to stay here. You need to figure out what happened to Ginny. You need to figure out what they are planning. If we get Camellia we need to know what we are fighting against."

"So you truly are back," I smiled, "I heard rumors that you were broken. I am glad that they weren't true."

"Oh, they were true." Harry replied, suddenly completely serious, "It seems that having a reason to live is good for me."

"Are you okay?" I asked, when the door opened and Rob walked in, "Oh no,"

"What?" Harry asked, looking up, "Who is that?"

"My partner. He knows that I know something about Ginny's murder." I quickly stacked up the papers and handed them to Harry.

"Kita," Rob said when he saw me.

"What?" I asked, a little irritated that Rob was intruding before whispering to Harry, "My name is Jane Kita, by the way."

Harry nodded before turning his attention towards Rob who came to a stop at our table. He looked at the two of us, "Hello, I'm Detective Rob Grison."

"Nice to meet you," Harry smiled a little, "I'm Phil Jameson."

I nearly snickered when I heard his alias but I kept silent. "So, how do you know Kita?"

"Jane and I go way back," Harry said, catching my eye and smiling at me, "We went to school together, got into a lot of trouble, didn't we?"

"What kind of trouble?" Rob asked, standing a little straighter. I immediately recognized his "_I'm Detective Rob Grison interviewing a suspect" _stance. I threw Harry a warning glance but he just smiled.

"Oh, the usual kind."

"So, do you know Ginny Weasley, too?"

"I did," Harry nodded.

"How?" Rob asked.

"We went to school together, too," he replied, "And her brother was my best friend."

"Was?" Rob asked.

"We lost sight of each other," Harry replied, shrugging, "You know how it when you grow up. You think you'll be best friends for the rest of your life and then life happens."

Rob nodded, "So, when was the last time you saw Ginny Weasley?"

"Uhm…" Harry hesitated for a while, "How long has it been? A bit more than fifteen years, I think."

"Did you have a fight?" Rob asked.

"No," Harry shook his head, "Now, if you don't mind, I have somewhere to be."

"Yes, yes, of course," Rob said as Harry stood up. Harry turned to face me and I stood up, too.

"I missed you," Harry muttered as he hugged me tightly.

"I missed you, too," I replied, "And I miss her."

"So do I," he sighed a little, "Have you told Ron abut Gin?"

"I can't reach him. I haven't been able to reach him for months now."

"What about the others? George, Percy, Charlie and Bill?"

"I don't know where they are. Last I heard Bill's in Egypt again, Charlie's in Romania, George's…well…you know how he is and Percy…I have to admit I have no idea where he is."

Harry nodded and hugged me once again, "Take care. And do stay in touch. I expect weekly messages. I want to know that you're okay. And if you hear from Ron…"

"I'll let you know. If you find her…"

Harry smiled at me, "I'll inform you. We'll have to do this again. Maybe you'll visit me, soon. I have quite a library. You'd love it, you little bookworm."

I smiled though I hadn't been a bookworm in years. I hugged Harry one last time, "Take care," I whispered as he kissed my hair before he finally left. I took my seat again. As I did so I noticed that he'd taken he documents along.

"What was that about?" Rob asked, taking the seat that Harry had just vacated.

"We were just saying goodbye," I replied, "We hadn't seen each others in years and won't see each other again for a long time."

"Right. Ron, I assume, is Ginny's brother – the one you were engaged to?"

"Yes," I nodded.

"And why are you still in touch with your ex-fiancé?"

"We stayed friends," I shrugged, "Anyways, I'm not in touch with him anymore."

Rob nodded and then got up, "So, we should go to work. The Doc finished the autopsy."

I nodded and followed Rob. As I got into the car I wondered how Rob had known I was at that particular café. He must have followed me, I realized.

I pondered on that thought all the way down to the morgue. If he truly had followed me then he knew that I had entered Ginny's apartment building. And that I had spent the night there.

However, he might have also seen the man leaving the building. Maybe he could help me figure all of this out.

"Hey, Doc," Rob shouted merrily as we entered the morgue where the Doc was bent over a new body.

"Curious, most curious," she muttered.

"What is it?" Rob asked, casually leaning against one of the tables.

"I don't seem to be able to determine a cause of death," the woman offered before looking up. As she took off her glasses, she scowled at Rob, "How many times do I have to tell you not to lean against those tables? They are sterilized, for heaven's sakes, and it's disrespectful to the dead – especially if you're nearly sitting on your own case."

The woman threw her arms in the air dramatically before marching over and pulling the sheet that had covered Ginny back. I nearly gasped out loud when I saw her body. I had seen so many obducted bodies but somehow, Ginny's astonished me.

She seemed so incredibly dead. Her hair which had been so vibrantly red only weeks before was now dull and she was so incredibly pale – far paler than she had seemed when I had found her. Maybe this was caused by the lighting, after all, morgues always seemed to have this cold, impersonal light.

And then there was the scar on her chest. I nearly reached out to trace it but, luckily, I could keep my fingers from touching her just inches before the body. The Doc pulled up an eyebrow but didn't further comment as she pulled out a file.

Putting on the glasses that were hanging around her neck, she began to read from the file, "Right, our Jane Doe here was not only sliced open as I said last night, she was also poisoned…"

I didn't listen any further. Her explanations got quite technical and I had other things to worry about: Why hadn't Rob given anyone the name? Why hadn't he told anyone that I had identified Ginny?

"So," Rob finally interrupted the Doc, "What did she die of? The slicing or the poisoning?"

"As I was saying," the Doc said, looking at him over her spectacles, "I don't know. Either, maybe even both."

"All right," Rob nodded, "And who could get the poison?"

"Anyone, really," the woman shrugged a little, "It's just not that commonly known. It's a mixture of herbs, so…"

Basically, everyone who ever took potions, I thought to myself, sighing a little. If she really had been poisoned then the pool of suspects was quite large. But seeing as she had poisoned herself…

I trailed off, not wanting to think about it anymore, "No questions today, Kita?" the Doc suddenly asked, turning to face me, "You usually have so much to ask."

"Not in this case," I replied, shaking my head. I really didn't want to know anything else about Ginny's death. I already knew enough.

A few moments later, we were back in the elevator, "Why didn't you tell anyone?" I asked, turning to face Rob, "Why didn't you tell anyone that I knew her and that her name was Ginny Weasley?"

"Because you are hiding something," Rob replied, "And you are my partner. I was trying to protect you."

"Trust me," I said, scoffing lightly, "They won't find anything involving me with the murder."

Actually, I thought, as soon as I had said it, that was a lie. I had given Ginny the poison and I had stayed at her apartment. To my defense, I had been stunned but they didn't know that.

"Nothing?" Rob snorted, "Apart from the fact that you spent last night at her apartment."

I nodded, conceding a point that I had already thought of, "So you were following me," I said, looking away from him, "You don't trust me."

"I don't know anything about you," Rob suddenly said, "You know, we've been partners and friends for years. My children call you Aunt Kita and my wife goes shopping with you. And yesterday, when you sat there, stroking that girl's hair, I realized that I didn't know you."

"You know me," I argued back, "You know the way I take my coffee, you know my favorite color and my favorite café. You know how to make me laugh and you know when I'm about to be so angry that I'm going to shoot someone or something."

"True," Rob nodded, "But I don't know the real you. I don't know where you grew up, I don't know your family, I don't know where you went to school…I have never met a single person from your past or heard you talk about something that happened more than ten years ago" he trailed off and, for a second, I thought he was done, when, suddenly, he looked up at me and I could see that he was dead serious, "When you were sitting there, stroking her hair, you were violating protocol, Kita. You were touching her before the autopsy, before she had been searched for clues. And you didn't care."

"Of course I didn't care," I exclaimed, quite suddenly whirling to face him, "She was my sister. My best friend. We grew up together, for heaven's sakes."

"So why don't you ever talk about her?" The elevator doors opened but neither one of us made a move to say anything else.

"That is between me and her," I replied.

"What aren't you telling me?" he asked, suddenly, "There is something you're not telling me. Something about the case."

"I'm telling you everything I can tell you."

"No," he shook his head, "You are not. And unless you tell me here and now what I need to know, I will request that you be put off this case because you are personally involved and I will request a different partner."

I nodded, acknowledging what he had said before I said, sadly, "I can't tell you what you want to know. But you should look into Draco Malfoy."

"So you really aren't going to tell me?" he asked, tilting his head to one side.

"I'm sorry," I replied, "I hope your new partner's nice."

And with that, I walked out of the elevator. Behind me, I was burning a bridge that I somehow suspected I would never be able to build again.

I regretted it, but I knew that there was no other way. I couldn't have told him.


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

As I left the café, I was nearly running. Ginny was dead. I still couldn't believe it.

That is, somehow I could believe it. I had known ever since _Smith_ had visited and asked strange questions about her. I had known, then, what had happened or what would happen.

As I walked down the street, I bumped into people. Profanities were shouted after me, but I found that I just couldn't bring myself to care.

Ginny was dead. And I had not been able to do anything to help her.

I had always hoped that, one day, we'd get the happily ever after we had so deserved. The happily ever after that we had wished for that day so long ago when we had parted ways before Grimauld Place.

That had been the last time I had seen her. I smiled a sad smile as I came to an abrupt stop in the middle of a step. I couldn't believe that it was over.

With a shake of my head I tried to right my thoughts. I had other things to worry about. Celia was waiting for me at home. Looking at my watch, I realized that it was only eleven so I still had most of the day to go look for Camellia. Still, I probably wouldn't find her in Ottery St. Catchpole. That would almost be too easy.

Nevertheless, I had to try. I owed Ginny that much. I had caused magic to fail, I had taken her happily ever after from her. I had, indirectly, caused her death.

I took a deep breath and continued walking. I quickly hailed a cab and gave it directions before settling into the back seat. I leaned my head against the cool glass and couldn't help but let a few tears escape.

For a while, I was shaken by silent sobs. Ginny was dead.

An hour or so later, we came to a stop before a familiar looking house. It still reminded me of a rook and, as I looked closer, I realized that it seemed to be the same house as before. As I sat there, in the cab, looking at the house, I remembered that both Luna and her father had been sure that the house would rebuild itself.

And it had. At least, it had after its first destruction during the war. But hadn't it collapsed on September twentieth?

"Sir?" the driver asked, suddenly, "Are you all right?"

"Yes," I nodded, "Thank you."

I got out of the cab, paid the man and made my way up the small pathway and towards the house. As I turned around, I could see that the cab was already driving away.

I pushed the door open, not even bothering to knock. Suddenly, I jumped as I heard a curious banging coming from one of the rooms. I followed the noise and soon I found myself in the kitchen.

"Hello, Harry," Luna said without turning around. In her hand were two spoons which she used to bang on the pots with in a strange pattern, "The Jolly-Knackers told me you were coming."

"I see," I replied, not bothering to ask who or what Jolly-Knackers were. As I looked at Luna's back, I could see that maybe her daughter had had a point. Her robe was tattered and dirty and her hair was unkempt. It looked as though it hadn't been cut in years. As I looked at her naked arms, I could see that she was too thin.

"So, I heard you had an encounter with a Knargle." Luna said, without ceasing her banging, "I am quite jealous. Where did you meet it?"

"In a Mistletoe, of course," I replied, smiling, "Luna, what are you doing?"

"I am performing my annual rain-dance ritual which will scare away the Dallopos. They like to eat the clouds before they get the chance to rain, you know."

"I see," I nodded.

"Well, I suppose I could resume this later," Luna said, putting down the spoons she was holding and turning around. I nearly gasped when I saw her thin face and her pale skin. But then I noticed her eyes. Her icy blue eyes still held the same clarity that they had all these years ago.

Luna Lovegood was not insane, of that I was certain.

"So," I said, leaning against the counter and smiling a little, "How long have you been pretending?"

"You did notice," Luna said, smiling back, "I wondered whether you would."

I said nothing else and simply looked at Luna, expecting her to say something.

"So, where is she?" I asked.

"She is safe," Luna replied as she poured some tea into two cup, "Here, have some tea."

"Why didn't your house collapse?" I asked, taking a sip, "Every other magical structure in the country collapsed."

"Oh, it collapsed," Luna smiled, "And then it rebuilt itself."

"Without magic?" I asked, pulling up an eyebrow.

"No," Luna shook her head, "With magic, of course."

"That's impossible." I said, "Magic doesn't exist anymore."

"Of course it exists," Luna said, taking a sip of the warm drink, "Magic will always exist. It's just our ability to channel it that's been affected."

"So, how do you reverse it?" I asked. Suddenly, this hope inside of me quelled again – maybe I would be able to use magic again. Maybe I would be able to feel that rush in my ears again, soon.

"You don't," Luna replied, smashing my hopes, "You give it time. Time, after all, heals all wounds."

"Right," I said, "And why has magic resurfaced now? Has time healed all wounds?"

"No, not yet. Magic just felt that it was time to be used again." Luna replied.

"You're talking as though magic was a sentient being."

"It is." Luna replied, taking another sip of the tea.

I waited for a while, expecting Luna to elaborate. But the woman before me just smiled and sipped her tea.

"Why are you pretending?" I asked, suddenly, "Why are you pretending to be insane when you aren't?"

"Well," she said, tilting her head just the way she always had back at Hogwarts, "I didn't actually pretend, you know. For a while I was insane. Magic had left me."

"And what made you come back to your senses?"

"Magic came back to me," Luna replied, smiling brightly, "Granted, it's not the same magic. It's so much wilder, so much more vibrant and alive. And it fills me – from my little toe up to my hair, I am filled with swirling magic."

She was glowing as she talked and I couldn't help but be jealous. I knew this feeling – this feeling of wild magic cursing through my veins. I had only felt it twice in my life – once when I had killed Vodemort and once during the last days of magic. Just before it had disappeared, I had felt it more vividly than ever before – as though it was saying good bye.

"So why can't I use magic? If magic wants to be used again?"

"Because your wounds haven't been healed yet. They might never be healed."

"What are you trying to tell me?" I asked but Luna just smiled and shook her head.

"Everyone has to figure this out for themselves. I suggest you try a patronus one of these days. The result might just surprise you."

I didn't say anything and just nodded, vowing to do so as soon as I returned home.

"Why could your house rebuild itself whilst the others couldn't?"

"It was the Crumple-Horned Snorkacks." Luna explained. Ah, I thought to myself, there we are – some more mystical creatures, "Did you ever wonder what happened to them after magic failed?"

"To the Crumple-Horned Snorkacks?" I asked, astonished, "It hadn't crossed my mind."

"No," Luna shook her head, "To all magical beings. To the centaurs, and the dragons and the giants."

I looked up at Luna and found that I hadn't thought of that. What had happened to them, I wondered.

While I had been thinking, Luna had taken a seat and was smiling at me, "You know, Ginny left you a message." She said, suddenly, changing the topic completely.

"What did she say?" I asked.

"A lot of things," Luna smiled, "But she said to tell you that there is more than one type of Horcrux. Not only souls can be split off from people."

"What is that supposed to mean?" I asked, tilting my head to the side, "Why can't anything ever be straight forwards?"

"Because then it'd be boring." Luna replied, smiling a little, "And you wouldn't have to think about it. Ginny was going to tell me more but I told her that you would figure it out. You always did."

"What?" I asked, confused.

"You know, Harry, in all my time I have never met anyone like you. You will figure it out and you will make this world a better world to live in. And when you win this war, it will truly be over."

I shook my head, unable to believe that, "It's never quite over."

"But for you it will be," Luna replied, "After this you will finally have your happily-ever-after."

"How could you possibly know that?" I asked, pulling up an eyebrow.

"Because it has to be over." Luna tilted her head again, smiling a little, "One way or the other, it will be. Trust me."

"I do," I smiled a little. And I did. I had always trusted Luna and I trusted her sources. No matter how ludicrous it sounded, her information was always good. Luna had saved all of our necks during the war with information that she couldn't possibly have.

"Good," Luna nodded before taking a last sip and standing up, "You should get going – they are coming."

"They?" I asked.

She walked over to the cupboard and pulled out a spoon before turning around to face me, "Camellia is in the next room."

"Luna," I said, approaching her, "Who is coming?"

"They are," Luna said again, "You should hurry. I will hold them off to give you time to escape."

"Luna, you can't. You have to come with us." I shook her shoulders, "We need you."

"No," Luna shook her head sadly, "You do not need me anymore. As I said, you will figure it out."

"Luna, I can't leave you behind."

"It doesn't matter," the woman replied, "I saw a Grim today."

"Don't do this, Luna. A Grim doesn't mean anything."

She smiled sadly, "A real Grim does," she replied, "I am prepared. I have known for a long time how everything was going to end."

"Please," I said, closing my eyes briefly, "I can't lose you, too."

"You're not losing me," Luna replied, "Those who love you never really leave you. And Ginny loved you. I love you."

I smiled sadly before hugging her, tightly, "Are you sure?"

"I am," the woman replied before putting the spoon into my pocket, "Now, get going. You still have a lot of maraudering to do, don't you?"

"I will miss you." I said, as I left the room. Luna just smiled and turned back to her pots. Slowly, she resumed her rhythm again.

As soon as I entered the living room, I spotted her. She was huddled in a corner, hugging her knees as her head was rested on them. A curtain of red hair hid her face from my view, but I was rather certain that she was crying.

For a moment, I thought that it was Ginny who was sitting there and not her daughter. She looked so much like Ginny had back after the ordeal with the chamber.

I approached, slowly, and touched her shoulder gently. The girl jumped and pressed herself further into the corner. I knew then, without a doubt, that something was wrong with her.

"Hello, Camellia," I said, softly. The girl just stared at me, without replying, "My name is Harry Potter."

"I know," the girl replied, looking at me through lowered lashed. Again, the similarities with Ginny overtook me. She had the same stature, the same stance. She had the same red hair and the same hazel-colored eyes.

But there were also other elements in her that I should have recognized. Her sharp chin and her long, slender fingers despite her young age reminded me distinctly of someone else I had known though I couldn't quite put a name to the features.

"Okay," I smiled a little, "Did your mother tell you about me?"

"I do not have a mother," the girl replied, looking up at me, "Ginerva told me about you. She said that you would take care of me. They would never hurt me again if you're here." Suddenly, she began to cough. It sounded horrible and I knew that she needed a doctor.

I was confused for a moment. Why hadn't Ginny told the girl that she was her mother? Hadn't she raised the girl? I looked closer at her and realized that her skin was extremely pale and there were strange marks on her wrists.

"Camellia," I asked, a horrible suspicion overcoming me, "Where did you live?"

"In a dark place," the girl replied, looking up at me, "Can we go now?"

But, as she said it, I realized that it was too late. I heard the sound of the front door slamming open and then I heard steps.

Suddenly, Luna's banging stopped and a loud voice demanded, "Where is she?"

I would recognize that voice anywhere. It hadn't changed at all in all these years. Malfoy.

"Maraudering," Luna replied, and I could almost hear the smile in her voice. Suddenly, the girl next to me coughed again.

"What was that?" Malfoy asked and pushed the door open. He stood there, smiling at us. "Ah, I see, Potter has come out of hiding."

I smiled sadly and wondered how I could get us out of the situation when Luna appeared behind Malfoy and smiled at me, "Good bye, Harry," she said.

At that moment, I remembered the spoon she had given me. It was impossible, wasn't it? I shook my head but despite it all, I knew that I had no other choice.

For a moment I stared at Luna. The woman saw that I had understood and smiled at me, "Don't worry about me, Harry. I will be fine."

Malfoy smirked and face us, "But you two won't be."

"How did you find us?" I asked, trying to distract Malfoy as I pulled the spoon out of my pocket.

"That was easy," he smirked, "I did, after all, find the second letter she had sent. The one she hid under the floorboard." He paused for a moment, "It wasn't too hard to figure out her clues. I think she had forgotten that I knew her, too."

At that moment, I decided that it was enough. I smiled at Luna, sadly. "I'm sorry," I mouthed to her as I touched the girl's shoulder, causing her to flinch.

Luna just nodded back at me and smiled as I whispered, "Mischief managed."

In a whirlwind we were carried away from the house, leaving Malfoy and Luna behind. Just as we left, I was sure I heard an explosion. For a moment, we were surrounded by fire. Then, just as suddenly as it had started, it was over.

I looked down at Camellia who suddenly began to shiver, "Are you all right?" I asked, concerned.

"I'm fine," the girl replied just like I had so often said in order not to worry anyone. The effect, however, was lost as she had another coughing fit. I smiled, sadly, and touched her forehead. Even as she flinched, I could feel that she had a fever.

I needed to get home as fast as humanly possible as I couldn't risk getting her to a doctor here, in London. If they had found me at Luna's then they could also find me in London.

I nearly scoffed at myself – I was starting to call them 'they', too. But then again, I had so little information about them. I knew nothing – not what they called themselves, not who their leader was and not what they wanted from Camellia.

I walked over to a phone booth and called the operator.

"_Kita," _Hermione said as she picked up.

"Hello, Jane. It's Phil."

"_Phil,"_ Hermione said, obviously worried, "_what happened?"_

"I'm just calling to tell you that I'm back in London. My visit with Luna was…well…a success and a failure at the same time."

"_Ginny's daughter?"_

"With me." I replied, "I have to get going. Take care."

"_You too," _Hermione replied before hanging up. I had taken a risk in calling her and I hoped that I wouldn't regret it.

I hailed a cab and an hour later, we had arrived. I paid and picked the girl up. Gently, I carried her inside and up the stairs. As I was about to enter my room, I saw Celia standing in the door to her room.

"Who is she?" Celia asked.

"That is none of your business," I replied, rather harshly I'm afraid, "Get back into your room. I don't want to see you today."

The girl looked about ready to protest when Camellia had a coughing fit which woke her up and started shivering, "I don't feel too good," the girl said, quietly.

"I know, sweetheart," I replied, stroking her hair gently, "It'll be better soon." I threw Celia a look, "Go into your room."

Celia simply nodded and left the corridor. In my room, I quickly placed Camellia down before I called the doctor.

"_What?"_ the man asked, probably mad that he had been woken.

"I'm sorry, doctor," I replied, "It's Phil Jameson. I have an emergency. Could you come over?"

The man grumbled something and I simply took it to mean that he'd be over in a moment. I sat down on the bed and tucked the girl in.

"Harry," the girl said, looking up at me, "I'm scared."

"I know," I replied, gently stroking her hair, "Nothing will happen to you."

The girl smiled a little before closing her eyes. A moment later, the bell rang. I got up and walked down the stairs. Quickly, I pulled open the door and ushered the doctor inside.

He had a long mustache and wore thick, rimmed glasses. It was obvious that he enjoyed food and drink a lot and despite his grumpy mood at the moment, laugh lines on his face told a different story. I took a deep breath and was about to start talking when he opened his mouth.

"I hope it's something serious," the man said, glaring at me. His voice was deep and I knew that he was a man I could trust.

"It is," I replied, walking up the stairs. The doctor followed me, grumbling. I pushed open the door to my room and gestured towards Camellia.

"What's wrong with her?" he asked.

"She has a fever. A rather high one, I'm afraid, and she has a nasty cough." I replied.

The doctor nodded and began his examination. I left the room while he worked and went downstairs where I prepared some tea. Ten minutes later, the doctor joined me, "You were right to call me," the man said, sighing, "I'm afraid that the girl has a rather horrid case of Pneumonia. I am prescribing antibiotics and a lot of fluids. I'll be by again tomorrow."

I smiled gratefully and nodded, "Thank you," I replied.

"Do you mind me asking who she is?" he asked and I sighed slightly. I had been afraid of this.

"No," I said, looking down at my cup of tea, "Her name is Camellia, she is an old friend's daughter. From a long time ago."

"Your past seems to be catching up with you," the man said, "We all wondered where you came from. And you never talked about it – come to think about it, you never talked about anything, really."

"It won't," I replied, looking out the window and into the night, "I will run faster than anyone who is chasing me."

"Someday you will have to stop running," the man said, smiling at me in this infuriating manner that Dumbledore had perfected.

"Someday far in the future. When there's no one running after me anymore."

"And how will you stop them from following you if you don't stop running?"

"I won't stop them," I replied, smiling a little, "Someone else will."

"Who?" the man asked, tilting his head, "Who would get between you and your past?"

"My friends." I answered without thinking about it.

"You seem to have a lot of confidence in your friends."

"I trust them," I said, before looking at the doctor. The doctor simply nodded and got up, knowing that I wouldn't tell him anything else.

"You won't tell anyone about her, will you?" I asked, "I can't have anyone snooping around or becoming suspicious."

"Then you moved to the wrong town, sonny. You know that they will find out about her and then the rumors will spread like a wildfire."

I sighed and nodded, "Still, I would appreciate it."

"I'll do my best," the man said, grinning a little as he left the house. I remained seated at the table for quite a while after he left. I was incredibly tired and I just wanted to roll over and sleep.

Suddenly, I heard screams from upstairs. I was up the stairs and by her bedside in an instant. She was struggling against an invisible foe, screaming loudly. I wished I could do something for her. I had had enough nightmares in my life and I hated how useless they always made me feel.

I shook the girl and for a moment she struggled against me before she woke up. She sat up, looking around frantically before she saw me and leant back again.

Somehow, I realized, I had gained her trust over the last few hours. I smiled a little and stroked her hair, "What is it?"

"Nothing," the girl said, coughing as she pulled up the cover which she had pushed off during her nightmare.

I caught her arm as she stretched it out, "What is that?" I asked, looking at the needle marks in her arms, "Did they do this to you?"

She just looked at me and nodded silently. I studied the marks and wondered silently what they had injected Camellia with.

Camellia looked up at me, blinking slowly as she coughed and I didn't want to ask her about her past – not while she was recuperating.

Still, I couldn't help but stare at her arms. It was obvious that whoever had injected her hadn't done so in a very gentle manner.

I sighed and let go of her arms before tucking her in, "Try to get some sleep," I said, smiling a little.

She just nodded and I walked over to the nightstand. I hesitated for a moment before I picked up the clock and turned off the alarm. For the first time in years the alarm would not ring at 6:24.

I felt a little queasy as I put down the alarm again. Things were changing, I suddenly realized, and I had to change, too.

For a moment I closed my eyes and tried to calm myself. I could feel things around me crumbling. My routine was the first thing to go.

I had this feeling that in the coming days and weeks a lot would change. Was this the change that I had been hoping for? Or would everything get worse?

"Are you okay, Harry?" Camellia asked, and I simply nodded and smiled at her. For a moment I wondered whether I should tell her to call me Phil.

But then I shook my head. Tomorrow, I decided. It had time until tomorrow. Today, I would simply sit here, by her bedside.

Again, I wondered whether everything would work out in the end, when I remembered Luna's promise.

Luna had promised me happiness. And I trusted Luna.

With a content smile on my face I sat down on the chair next to the bed and watched Camellia as she fell asleep.

I pulled out my wand and whispered, "_Expecto Patronum_".


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"So you're saying that Kita is one of your suspects?"

"No," I shook my head vehemently and instantly regretted that I had ever entered the office, "I am saying that she knew the suspect, that the girl was her best friend and that she's not subjective anymore."

"Are you asking to be reassigned?" my wife asked, tilting her head, "Where is Kita anyways?"

"She agreed with me that we could no longer work together."

"You are kidding me, right?" she asked, tapping her fingers on the table.

"No, chief," I shook my head, "I am serious."

She stood up and bent down to pull out a box of files, "Rob, look at these," she said, "these are all the cases you've solved, together, in the last month. That's twice the amount of cases that any other team solved."

"We can't work together anymore," I said, shaking my head, "She knows something and she won't tell me."

"Maybe she has a reason, Rob. You've trusted her for so long. When I met the two of you, you were so close that I thought you were together. Talk to her, Rob. I'm sure you'll sort it out."

I frowned at her, before leaning forwards, "You don't understand, Ana, we can't work together anymore."

My wife looked at me critically before she sighed and sat down, "So what would you have me do?" she asked, "Kita is one of my best detectives. I can't just reassign her without an explanation."

"Please, Ana," I said, "Do it for me."

I hated myself for using my wife in such a manner, knowing that I was ruining her relationship with Kita as well, but I simply couldn't work with the woman anymore.

I couldn't trust her to have my back anymore. We had always had our issues but never, in all these years, had I doubted her. I knew nothing about her past and if someone – like her ex-fiancé – were to resurface during these investigations she would definitely not be able to be subjective.

"Very well," she said, sighing, "I'll reassign her to Thomas' case and you'll stay on the case with detective Johnson."

"Thank you, chief," I said, smiling a little.

"I'll see you tonight," Ana said, sighing a little, "And send in Kita on your way out."

I nodded and left the office. I had achieved what I had wanted to achieve, and still, I sort of regretted what had happened. I told myself that I had had no other option, but the only thing I could think of was all the times that Kita had helped me out of a tough spot. Maybe I should have stuck by her and tried to help.

I shook my head and walked over to where Kita was reading the report of one of the John Doe's down in the morgue. I looked at the picture and recognized the man that the Doc had worked on when we went there to find out more about Ginny's death.

"The chief wants to see you," I said, as I passed her desk. She nodded and smiled. I took my seat on the desk next to hers when she dropped a sheet of paper. I bent down and picked it up but just as I was about to shout out to Kita that she had dropped something, my eyes caught on the name _Draco Malfoy_ .

I recalled that Kita had told me to look into him. As I studied her notes closer, I saw that she had drawn out a scheme of sorts. It reminded me a little of the schemes we used to take down the mafia by figuring out where in the hierarchy the different members belonged.

Like so often, the top was a big question mark. Beneath the question mark stood Draco Malfoy. I looked closer and saw that I recognized none of the names on the scheme. This seemed to be a rather large group of people who operated below our radar.

How then did Kita know about them? Granted, there were a lot of question marks but she knew a whole lot more than I did. Suddenly, I had to stifle a gasp as I came across another name.

Ginny Weasley. Next to the name was a cross and it seemed like Hermione had written "_I'm so sorry, Gin,"_ next to the woman's name.

Was Ginny involved with these people? And if so, how? And, what exactly, did these people do?

I frowned and went back to the desk. Just as I was about to place the piece of paper down, I changed my mind and looked through the files that were lying on Kita's desk. As I did so, I found another note stuck to her computer. "_Zabini?"_

I looked down at the scheme in my hands and saw that the same word – Zabini – was written next to the scheme with a big question mark next to it. What was a Zabini? Or, maybe, the question should rather be, who was Zabini?

I looked at the file that Kita had been working on and saw that she had made some notes that seemed like gibberish to me. Next to the no cause of death, she had scribbled "_AK"_ and next to the words John Doe she had written Collin.

Did she know the man, too, I wondered?

I began to leaf through the other files too, just glancing at the pictures. Oftentimes, she had written a name next to the files but the thing that seemed to link all the cases was a small S carved into the bodies.

"What are you doing, Rob?" a voice suddenly asked and I looked up to see Kita standing there.

"I was just looking," I tried to defend myself but by the way her brow twitched in anger I knew that I had not been very successful.

"I'd rather you minded your own business," the woman replied, before taking a seat and gathering up her papers.

"So," I asked, looking over at her, "Do you have a new case?"

"Yes," she replied, looking down at her papers, "A kidnapping. Or, more precisely, a series of kidnappings."

I had heard of this case. It had been going on for nearly a year now and we still didn't have a single lead, despite Thomas' best effort. Before he had been put on the case, he'd been one of the best detectives with a nearly impeccable record but now, after a year on the same case, he was the laughing stock of the whole department as his theories became increasingly more 'out there'.

Joining Thomas' investigation was considered to be a career-ender.

Suddenly, our phone rang pulling me back into reality as I picked up.

"Detective Grison speaking," I said.

"_Hello, detective," _a voice on the other side said, "_Could I speak to Hermione Granger?"_

"I'm sorry," I replied, "There is no Hermione Granger here."

Next to me, I could see Kita looking up, startled, "_Oh, my bad. I thought…"_

Suddenly, Kita pulled the receiver from my hand and put it to her ear, "This is her," she said.

I pressed on the hands-free button to hear the response. "_Hello, Hermione. It's been a long time. Fifteen years."_

"Yes," Kita replied, "What do you want from me, Malfoy?"

Malfoy? I wondered, quietly. The same Malfoy that I should be looking into for Ginny's death?

"_I want to meet you," _the man on the other side said, "_Don't you think you owe me that much?"_

"Owe you?" Kita scoffed, "After what you did to Ginny I owe you nothing."

"_So you found her. That's good." _The man on the other side seemed to smirk, "_And you know, I didn't kill her. You did."_

"You're sick, Malfoy. You always were. So tell me – why didn't you carve an S into Ginny, too?"

"_Ginerva was different," _the man said, "_You know, I didn't want it to go this far. This has never been our goal. Ginny just got involved in the wrong things."_

"Tell me, what _do_ you want, then?" the woman asked, "A bunch of ex-death eaters get together…"

"_It's not the ex-death eater part that you should be concentrating on," _the man said, "_It's the magical strength we're focusing on."_

"Magical strength," Kita scoffed, "Don't make me laugh."

"_Oh, so that stunner made you laugh?"_ the man on the other side said and, for the first time in a long while, I saw Kita struggling for words. The conversation was going on above my level of understanding. What on earth were they talking about? And why did this man insist on calling Kita Granger?

"_We could use someone like you on our side, Granger," _the man suddenly said, causing Kita to jump.

"You're kidding me," the woman said, glaring at the phone as though the man could see her, "You'd want a mudblood fighting with you?"

"_Things have changed," _the man, Malfoy, said, "_You know that as well as I do. After your precious Potter destroyed it all, let's just say that our priorities have shifted…"_

"I would never join you."

"_Ginerva did." _

"You really think that Ginny would sacrifice her principles?" Kita asked, scoffing.

"_She didn't sacrifice her principles. She was fighting to regain everything she had lost."_

"Listen, Malfoy, I can't say that I'm entirely unsympathetic to your cause. You know that I wouldn't stand in the way of your goal. But it's your means that are wrong. And I will never join you because of what you did to Ginny and Camellia."

I noticed that something had changed. Kita wasn't aggressive anymore, she seemed somewhat resigned and downtrodden. Again I wondered what they were talking about.

"_Where is Camellia?" _the man asked, and I believe that I noticed a change in his voice, too, "_You have no idea what she means to us…and to me."_

"Camellia means nothing to you," Kita corrected the man, "She is Ginny's daughter and she is where Ginny wanted her."

"_And she is my daughter,"_ the man said, "_I want her safe, too."_

This information seemed to throw Kita off for a moment before she sighed and replied, "_I know you, Malfoy. You would sacrifice your own daughter for the good of the society. You know what that makes you?"_

"_Let me guess,"_ the man on the other side replied, "_It makes me like Grindelwald."_

"Something like that," Kita replied, before taking a deep breath, "Though I would have compared you to Dumbledore – you have the right goal but the wrong means. You forget that individuals aren't pawns."

"_Where is she?"_ Malfoy asked again.

"I can guarantee you that as long as I am alive you will never get Camellia back." Kita said, and I could tell by the way that her eyes blazed that she meant it.

"_You should visit your friend soon," _Malfoy said, suddenly, "_I don't think that she's doing too good."_

"Who are you talking about?" Kita asked, her voice rising again, "Malfoy, answer me."

"_You'll figure it out. You were, after all the smartest witch Hogwarts has ever seen."_

"Merlin, Malfoy, if you're toying with me, I swear I'll hunt you down…"

"_You're already hunting me, Granger," _the man said, and I could nearly hear the smirk through the phone, "_But I'll swear to you that I'm not toying with you. Find her."_

With that, he severed the connection and Kita slammed the phone down angrily before grabbing her things and leaving the building in a huff.

I watched her leave and took a seat. What had I just heard?

I approached my computer and typed in a search for "_Granger"_. I found two dentists by the name Granger who had disappeared without a trace a little less than twenty years ago.

Apparently they had had a daughter. Searching through her records I could see that she was an exemplary student who had even had several scholarship offers. But when she turned eleven, she seemed to disappear.

She didn't get a driver's license and she never got married. There was not a single parking ticket to her name and she had not visited the hospital since her eleventh birthday. I couldn't find a death certificate either.

I looked for a picture but the only one I found was of a ten-year-old girl with her parents at a dentist's convention. I couldn't tell whether this girl was Kita or not – her hair, her eyes and even her teeth seemed to be different. Still, there was something eerily familiar about the little girl. I sighed and leaned back when, suddenly, a voice behind me said, "I had forgotten about that."

I turned around and saw Kita standing behind me, smiling a little. "I forgot my keys," she said, picking up her keychain from her desk before smiling at me.

She walked away before changing her mind and turning around, "Listen, Rob, I really am sorry. Maybe I should have told you about this earlier but I truly had thought I'd put it all behind me."

"Where did you go after you turned eleven?" I asked, taking this as an opening for questions.

"A private school – Hogwarts." The woman replied, smiling in a sad manner. Something had happened there, I knew that much.

And I also knew when it had happened – fifteen years ago. Kita – I suppose I really should call her Hermione or at least Granger - had not been in contact with Malfoy for fifteen years and Phil hadn't seen Ginny in fifteen years, either.

"Why did you change your name?" I asked, not wanting to ask the obvious question.

"That," the woman said, while walking away, "Is for me to know and for you to find out."

"And what about your parents?" I asked, but Kita was already gone, leaving me all alone in the office.

After a few moments, I got up, grabbed my keys and followed Kita out the door. I approached my car just as I saw Kita drive off into the distance. I jumped into my car and followed her quickly.

I hated this. I absolutely did. There is nothing worse than following your own friend – or a person who you considered to be your friend.

I sighed as I turned left, following Kita. As I did so, I realized that she was driving neither to her home nor to Ginny's apartment. I don't know how long we drove but I do know that it seemed to take forever until the car finally came to a stop in Ottery St. Catchpole.

Kita got out of the car and slammed the door. I stopped my car a few hundred meters down the road and followed Kita up the road and towards the house – or, I suppose, the ruins.

Kita didn't mind the fact that there was nothing left of the house and gingerly stepped over the threshold.

I followed her at a safe distance in order not to be seen. It was dark outside already and I wondered what, exactly, we were doing there when Kita suddenly kneeled down.

I approached and tried to see whatever it was that had caught Kita's attention. I saw nothing of interest; the only thing she was looking at was a small stick.

I looked around, trying to figure out what had happened to the house. It looked as though a bomb had gone off. Kita pocketed the stick before standing up. She walked further into the house and I continued to trail her.

We seemed to reach the origin of the explosion when Kita suddenly stopped.

"What are you doing here?" a voice suddenly asked and I was about to justify myself when I realized that the woman was talking to Kita, "Haven't you caused enough damage?"

"I'm sorry," Kita replied, taking another step forwards and thus allowing me to see the room in its entirety.

In the middle of the room, at the only place which was cleared from the debris, lay a woman. She was thin and frail and seemed to be breathing hard. Her eyes were closed and she was bleeding severely.

Next to her knelt a young woman, trying to stop the bleeding. "Oh, Merlin," Kita said, kneeling down, too. I didn't even wonder about her strange vocabulary as I focused on the woman lying there, in the middle of the room and clearly in need of medical attention.

"Hermione," the woman opened her eyes and looked up at her, "Is she safe?"

"She's with Harry," Hermione replied, smiling as she touched her forehead.

"Then," the woman with the blond hair replied, closing her eyes and letting go of a breath, "Then she truly is safe."

"Yes," Hermione nodded before wiping the sweat off of the woman's forehead, "Luna, what happened?"

"Malfoy…" the woman said, before coughing, "He came to take Camellia. And when Harry took her first he caused an explosion."

"Luna, how long ago was that?" Kita asked.

"A day…maybe two days," if she had been better, I assume she would have shrugged but as it was, she simply lay back.

"And you didn't get her to a doctor?" Kita turned towards the young woman who was sitting there, watching the two older women.

"She said that she would not leave the house." I nearly scoffed. This was no house – this was a pile of rubbles.

Hermione sighed and turned to face the woman again, "Luna, you need to let go of that. Come on; let me take you to a hospital."

"I saw a Grim," the woman replied, taking a shuddering breath, "I won't have much longer."

"That's just nonsense," Kita replied, stroking the woman's forehead, "Luna, you need to live."

"No," the woman shook her head, "I've lived long enough. I was never meant to live through the war. I was never meant to live through Rolf's death. And now, finally, my time has come. I have done everything I was meant to do."

"You still have so much, Luna. Don't you want to see magic come back? Don't you want to see this glorious new civilization come into being? A world without corruption, without war," Kita smiled and I could see that she was sharing a dream of hers with the woman.

"Oh, Hermione, you always were an idealist. The thing about Utopias is that more often than not if they turn into reality suddenly they're not as glorious anymore."

Hermione turned her face away and I could see that she was battling with tears, "Luna, please," the woman said, begging for the first time I had known her, "Please just live."

"My death won't be futile," the woman said, smiling a little, "Through me, this house will come back to life. Through me, magic will come back."

Suddenly, the woman who had been relatively silent up until that moment interrupted, "I will kill him. I don't care if he's Harry bloody Potter or not, I will kill him for leaving you behind."

Again, they mentioned Harry Potter and I wondered who he was. Everything seemed to somehow revolved around him.

"No," Luna shook her head, "No, you won't. When I am gone, you will understand. And you will do what is necessary."

"How could he?" the woman asked, "How could he?"

"He understood," Luna replied, tilting her head to the side, "He understood that Camellia had a right to live."

"And you don't?" the young woman asked. Her dark hair fell into her face and I could suddenly see that she, too, was crying.

"Of course I do. But, sweetheart, I have lived. I lived and loved and hated and fought and now, I have fought my last battle. And I won." She smiled brightly, "You will understand soon enough."

"You didn't win," the younger woman said, "You're dying."

"After all, for the well-organized mind…" Luna started, smiling in a strange manner as though she was remembering something.

"Death is but the next great adventure." Kita finished, smiling back at the woman lying there.

"I hate this," the younger woman said, sighing a little as she stroked her dark hair out of her face, "And sometimes I hate you."

"I know," Luna replied.

"Karen," Kita suddenly said, "You didn't know Luna back when we were students, when we were fighting Tom," she took a deep breath, "She is a strong woman. She could have saved herself and left Camellia behind. But she didn't – she made a choice. And you have to respect that choice."

Luna smiled a little and looked at Karen, "I love you, Karen."

"I love you, too, Mom," the younger woman replied, kissing her forehead.

"And Hermione," Luna said, suddenly, "Someone followed you."

With that, she took one last, shuddering breath and closed her eyes forever. As she did so, I thought I could see something leave Luna and settle on Karen briefly before being absorbed into her.

Karen stopped sobbing and closed her eyes briefly. When she opened them again I thought, for a second, that her eyes were blue. I shook myself before looking back at Kita.

The woman was staring directly at me and frowning openly before she stood up and wiped her eyes. She giggled, suddenly.

"Can you feel it?" she asked Karen.

"Yes," Karen said, her eyes wide in awe. I don't know what they were feeling but as I looked up above me, the previously damaged roof repaired itself, "It's the Crumple-Horned Snorkacks. I never believed…"

"We learned long ago to believe your mother, no matter how ludicrous her theories sounded," Kita said, looking down at the body as the living room reassembled itself, "Your mother was always rather special."

"Yes, that she was." The woman smiled a little, before she turned to face me. She seemed rather different from how she was before. Maybe her mother's death was to blame but somehow I doubted it, "What shall we do with you?" she asked, tilting her head.

Kita sighed, "You wouldn't happen to have a memory potion, would you?" she asked as the house finished assembling itself.

Karen shrugged a little and walked into the next room. Kita followed her and gestured towards me to do the same. I stepped into the kitchen which had previously been in ruins and was now spot-less except for two tea-cups which were standing on the table as though left over from before the explosion.

My head was whirling as I tried to take everything in. I was completely out of my league and was about to ask for clarification when Kita smiled at me before turning around.

"You know," Kita said, approaching the cupboard and pulling out a jar filled with leaves, "This is what I used to kill Ginny."

"You killed Ginny?" I asked, looking up startled and even more confused. Nothing was making sense anymore. Though now that she mentioned it, I remembered that Malfoy had said the same thing.

Kita seemed to have forgotten that I was there. Nonetheless, she shook her head, "Of course not. I simply gave her the option."

"So you're saying she committed suicide?" I asked, tilting my head.

"Maybe," Kita shrugged, "Who knows what killed her first. I just know that she was in no pain when she died."

Karen turned around and handed Kita some herbs, "I assume that you know what these are?"

The woman nodded and approached the kettle. She filled it with water and placed it on the stove, "I truly am sorry, Rob," she said, and I knew that she meant it.

"For what?" I asked, confused.

"For everything. Why did you have to follow me?" she asked, before waving off her question, "I suppose that's obvious."

"What happened to me?" Karen suddenly asked, turning to face Kita.

"I can only assume that whatever made your mother special has journeyed on to you. I believe it is a sort of inheritable gift. Your mother and your grandmother both had it, too, as far as I know." Kita shrugged, "I think that one of these days you'll be happy that you have it."

Karen tilted her head to the side and was about to say something else, when the kettle began to whistle and Kita pulled it off the stove. She put a few of the herbs into a mug before pouring the hot water on top of it.

"Here," she handed it to me.

"What is that?" I asked, smelling it critically.

Kita smiled a little sadly, "It will make you forget," the woman said, "I'm sorry but there's no other way."

"You could explain it to me," I replied, "You could tell me what I just saw."

"No," Kita shook her head, "I can't. You wouldn't believe me. Just drink the tea."

I looked at the brew before me and took a deep breath. I didn't want to forget. I felt a strange sort of panic befall me. I didn't want to forget. I didn't want to forget.

It was like a mantra, running through my head. "Don't make me force it down your throat," Karen suddenly said.

I looked at her and noticed that she was dead serious. What on earth was going on? I didn't want to forget – I wanted to understand.

"How much am I going to forget?" I wanted to know.

"Just the last few hours," Kita replied, "Don't worry, it'll be all right."

I took a deep breath and gulped the whole thing down. It burned my throat but I didn't stop drinking. For a moment I looked at the two women before me before I felt a weird lightness overtake me.

"It's not working," I said, though I suppose I must have slurred it more than said it.

Kita smiled at me before turning back to face Karen, "Take care, Karen. And, I truly am sorry about Luna. She was a good friend."

Karen nodded and tilted her head, "Don't worry, I won't hunt Harry down. I do understand."

"Luna was right."

"Mom had the habit of always being right."

"Well, she had enough help," Kita replied.

"So, will you take him back?"

I began to swoon a little and Kita quickly stabilized me, "I suppose I have to."

"It's not working," I said, again. Kita simply smiled at me before taking my elbow and leading me away. In the door, she turned around and looked back at Karen, "Don't tell anyone where Harry is, okay?"

"I won't." the woman said, "The knargles won't let me."

I suppose that it was a sign of how much the brew had affected me that I didn't even wonder what knargles were and simply nodded.

"Bye, Karen," Kita said as she lead me to my car, "I don't suppose you're fit for driving," she said, looking at the two cars before making a decision and pulling me over to her car.

She put me in the back and got in the front before driving off. The drive was rather fuzzy as I faded into and out of consciousness. The last thing I remember of that night is getting out of her car and murmuring, "I still remember everything," before blackness finally overtook me and took my memories with it.


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

I blinked lazily as the sun shone through the window, waking me. It took me a moment to remember where I was but when I did remember, a broad smile spread over my face.

It had been years since I had been this relaxed. Fifteen years, to be exact. I turned over and saw Lydia lying next to me, her face buried in her pillow. Her long, black hair was spread out and one of her arms rested gently on her breast.

I smiled even broader and rolled back. Nothing could destroy my peace, not now. I had finally found my place. My life was back on track. Every morning, I felt this lightness come over me. I was no longer weighed down by my past.

Even if it was very different from the life I had dreamed of all these years ago, I was happy. I had learned to let go.

"Morning," Lydia murmured, running a hand through my hair and I smiled a little. I turned back around to face her and kissed her.

She giggled and jumped up before throwing me out of the bed, "Hey," I protested, "What was that for?"

"Get up, you need to go to work soon."

I grinned and saluted, "Ma'am, yes, ma'am."

Lydia just rolled her eyes, "I'll have breakfast ready in a few minutes. Don't use all the hot water."

"Why I would never!" I exclaimed, pretending to be insulted.

"Right," she smirked as she walked down the stairs, "I know you, Fred."

As soon as she said that, the smile slipped off my face as she walked away. It always did when someone said my name. Or rather, his name.

How I could have been stupid enough to call myself Fred was beyond me. Maybe it was because the first time I had used the alias was the first anniversary of the battle and thus of Fred's death. I had been getting drunk in a bar when Lydia had approached me and told me to lay off the drinks.

Of course, I hadn't listened. The following morning was the first time I woke up in her apartment with a hangover.

She never asked why I was getting drunk. She never pried into my past – probably because she, too, had a past she didn't like to talk about. When I was gone for months at a time, she never tried to get me to stay.

And so, one day, I just stayed on my own.

I don't know how it had happened. After that first time I had woken up at her apartment, we had breakfast together. Two hours later I had left town.

The next time I was in town, I saw her working in a diner. She recognized me immediately and we had breakfast together. I spent two days there – at her apartment – and then I was gone again. I didn't leave a note.

When I came back, she didn't ask where I had been. She didn't ask why I hadn't told her that I was going. She didn't ask about my family or about Hermione, whose picture was still in my wallet.

I got out of my shower and walked down the stairs, "Hey," she said, standing at the stove with one of my shirt on, "I made pancakes."

"Great," I smiled and took a bite before gulping down some coffee.

The time between my absences got longer and my journeys got shorter as I longed to be back in the apartment. She never asked me to move in, and I never actually did. Still, my things migrated to her apartment.

And then, without even realizing it, I was in a relationship. Granted, it was a rather strange one – we knew next to nothing about each other and we never talked about the future.

But we were happy. We were so incredibly happy. And it seemed to last forever.

"You should get going," Lydia reminded me as she tied her hair together in a messy bun, "It's eight."

I cursed, stuffed the last pancake into my mouth and got up. After one last kiss on the mouth I finally left to go to work. I worked at the supermarket check-out. And, like always, I arrived late. And no one cared. That was the beauty of this small town. Everyone always ran late.

"Hey, Bob," I greeted the customer who was browsing through our newspaper stand.

"Freddie," he grinned, turning to face me, "Anything you'd recommend?"

"I haven't had a chance to look at it this week," I replied, "Tell me if you find something."

"Sure thing," the man grinned before turning back towards the stand.

The only thing I disliked about my life was my job. It gave me too much time to think. And so I stood there, with nothing to do but think about the past.

My messages to Hermione had decreased steadily as my relationship with Lydia developed. I just couldn't do it anymore, this endless searching. I couldn't bear travelling from one place to the next without having a real home. For years I travelled around, following every clue I could get my hands on, trying to find magic. But every lead turned out to be a dead end.

I can't count the number of cults I stumbled across or the number of mountains I climbed to meet the wise old witch who turned out to be an ordinary woman with no magic whatsoever. I spent time on all continents, in nearly every magically important country.

I made contacts with members of the magical communities of all different countries who were trying to rebuild after what had happened.

But in the end I gave up. Magic didn't exist anymore and I would no longer follow useless clues when I had a home.

In a way, I felt guilty for giving up. I was abandoning Harry and Hermione. I was running away. I was coward for not sticking it out with the others.

But I found that I didn't care. Coward or not, I was still entitled to a life. At least that's what I tried to tell myself.

And then there was Hermione. Theoretically, I was still engaged to her. We had never broken up. It was just the circumstances that had torn us apart. Sometimes I felt as though I was cheating on her.

But I couldn't wait forever, could I?

"Have you found everything?" I asked when Bob came to pay.

"Of course, Freddie," he replied, putting his purchase into his bag before grinning, "So, how's the Missus?"

"I'm not married," I replied.

"You're as good as," the man said, grinning even wider if possible.

"She's fine," I replied, shrugging, "Made pancakes to die for this morning."

"So, when are you going to get down on one knee and make it official?"

I just grinned mysteriously – as I always did when he asked me. I wouldn't tell him that I wasn't going to marry Lydia. I loved her, in my own way, but I wouldn't ask her to marry me. We both had too much baggage.

We lived in the moment and a marriage would be a commitment that we both weren't willing to make.

Bob left, leaving me alone with Joe, a coworker with whom I had never exchanged more than a polite greeting.

The day passed slowly as I was leafing through an old newspaper. Suddenly I gasped. There, before my very eyes, was a message that could only come from Harry.

Magic had resurfaced. I couldn't believe it. Just as I had found my place magic was coming back.

I shook my head, unable to believe it. I had travelled around the world and now magic was coming back in England. I nearly laughed out loud before I decided that it didn't matter.

I was no longer a part of the magical world. I was no longer a wizard. I was normal. I had a completely different life.

For a second I imagined what my life would have been like if magic had never faded. I would have married Hermione and we'd probably have a few children by now. I'd be an auror and Hermione would probably still be fighting for her Spew.

A smile flickered across my face before I wiped it all away. No. I wasn't going to go there. I had a completely different life, now.

And I was happy.

Suddenly, my phone began to ring. I looked at the caller ID and recognized Lydia's number. As soon as I picked up, she began to talk, "_Fred, there's an owl here. And you won't believe this, it's carrying a letter."_

I panicked and nearly dropped my phone, "Who is it addressed to?" I asked.

"_I don't know. Right now it's sitting on our kitchen table guarding the letter with its life."_

I sighed before telling Lydia not to move and that I was going to be over in a few moments. I took of my apron and walked over to the apartment. And truly, as I reached the kitchen, the first thing I saw was the owl, sitting on the table.

As I looked closer, I recognized Pig. What on earth was that bird doing there, I wondered. And who had sent him?

I took the letter which, to Lydia's astonishment, the bird handed me without hesitation, and opened it. It wasn't addressed, but I recognized the writing immediately and knew that it was meant for me.

"_This little fellow here found me a few days ago. I knew that if anyone could find you, he could. I hope this won't fall into the wrong hands, but even if it does, it won't contain much information that they don't already have._

_Something is happening. I don't know what, but I am sure that the equilibrium that has established itself over the last few years is shifting._

_I have so much to tell you. Things have happened in these last few months that you were out of touch. _

_At first I was worried that something had happened to you. But now I know better – you simply let go. _

_Sometimes I am jealous that you could find your place. That you could simply let go of life as you knew it and start over. I could never do that. It was my whole life. My whole life was Hogwarts and, well, you _

_I won't tell you that we need you here – you know that we do. I won't tell you that we miss you – you know that, too. _

_This letter isn't meant to make you come back to me, not at all. This letter is a good bye. I understand that you're gone. I understand that you won't come back. And I even understand your reasons._

_For what it's worth, I'm happy that you found someone. And even if it wasn't me, I am glad._

_You're not a coward. You're not running away. You've done your share. No, you've done more than your share._

_And still, I have more bad news for you. For your family._

_There is no easy way to say this, so I will just come out with it. G. was killed. We found her under a bridge. I will spare you the details. Just know that I am doing everything I can to find her killer. I still can't really believe it._

_I hope that maybe, sometime, we will see each other again to reminiscent about the past. But I understand that you have a different life now. _

_Good bye,_

_H. G."_

I lowered the letter, slowly, and was dimly aware of the tears that were running down my face. Ginny was dead. My little sister was dead.

I leaned against a counter and dropped the letter. Lydia bent down to pick it up. She skimmed over it and looked up at me. For the first time since I had known her, there were questions in her eyes.

I took a deep breath and said, "My sister died."

"I'm sorry," Lydia said and as I looked at her, I only saw a stranger who was awkwardly trying to comfort me. For a moment, I wished for my family – and for Hermione. But then Lydia smiled her typical smile and sat down, "Tell me about her."

I couldn't help but smile back and took a seat across from her as I began to talk about Ginny. I was careful not to say anything about magic but other than that, I left nothing out. Except for Hermione.

Suddenly, Lydia tilted her head and asked another question that I had dreaded, "Who's H.G.?"

"Hermione Granger," I replied, pulling out my wallet and showing her the picture of Hermione that I still carried, "We were engaged."

Lydia looked at her and lowered the picture, "She looks happy."

"She was. We all were, back then," I replied, pulling out a second picture of the whole family, with Harry and Hermione.

"That's Ginny, isn't it?" Lydia asked, pointing at my sister. I nodded and smiled as I saw how Harry's arm was resting on Ginny's hip and how Ginny's head was leaned on Harry's shoulder. Instead of looking at the camera, my sister was grinning up at Harry who's other hand was absentmindedly playing with Ginny's hair.

Back when the picture had still moved, he'd bend down and kiss Ginny's forehead, causing my sister to color in typical Weasley fashion but smile contently nonetheless.

"She was amazing." I said, sighing.

"You're going back, aren't you?" Lydia asked. I simply nodded. I had to go. After all, my sister had died.

"Can I come with you?" she asked. I looked up, astonished. Lydia had never joined me on my travels and I had never asked her to. I didn't think that she'd want to do so.

I looked at her and saw something there, in Lydia's eyes, that I had never seen there before. I recognized it to be insecurity.

"You know that I love you, don't you?" I asked.

"How could I?" the woman asked, "It's not like we talk about things like this."

I had to admit that she was right but I had just assumed that Lydia would somehow know without me telling her, "I come back, don't I?" I asked, "Why would I do that if I didn't love you?"

Lydia smiled a little and nodded, "I know," she said, sighing, "And I'm sorry. It's just, I'm pregnant."

I stared at her, aware that this changed everything.

"This changes things," I muttered, quietly, "Lydia, I…"

"I'm sorry," the woman said as thick tears began to drip down her face.

"Shush," I muttered, hugging her, "It takes two to tango, doesn't it?" I asked, smiling.

"I suppose," the woman muttered, hugging me back.

"I have to go, Lydia," I said, suddenly, "But I do recognize my responsibility to you and the little one. And I will be back. I won't run off with Hermione, I promise. Hermione's in my past."

"Is she really?" the woman asked, "Then why do you carry around a picture of her?"

"Because she's family," I replied, "And I do carry around a picture of you, too," I added.

"No, you don't." Lydia corrected me.

"Of course I do," I replied, pulling out the last picture and showing it to the woman who smiled brightly as she recognized a picture I had taken the previous summer.

"I love you, too," Lydia said suddenly as she kissed me, "Come back to me."

I nodded and went into the bedroom. I pulled out my suitcase and began to pack. I was leaving again. Just as I had found my home I was leaving it.

Suddenly, Lydia entered the room, smiling at me, "Let me," she said, as she smoothed over my sweater. I stood back and let her work.

"I love you," Lydia said, again, as though making up in one day for the years that we had avoided telling each other about our feelings, "Now leave so you can get back sooner." She added, as she zipped the suitcase shut.

"Can I get one last kiss?" I asked, grinning.

"Well…" the woman said, hesitating playfully.

"It'll make me remember what I'm missing and I'll come back even faster."

"In that case you can have a thousand kisses," the woman said, peppering my face with kisses until she reached my mouth. I hugged her close and kissed her desperately.

Even if she didn't know it, I knew that there was a chance that I would not come back alive. After a minute, I let go of Lydia, picked up my suitcase and left the apartment. I slowly made my way to the bus stop.

Half an hour later I was on a bus to London, looking through a phone book for Hermione's – Kita's – address.

A few hours later I had finally arrived and went directly to Hermione's flat. As I made my way down the street, I could see that the house was being watched – by two different people. I shrugged a little and walked up the stairs. Before her apartment, I knocked on the door.

"Who is it?" Hermione called from within.

"It's me." I replied, hoping that she'd still recognize me. And she did as the door was pulled open and she hugged me tightly. For a moment I was reminded of my mother – until she pulled back and slapped me.

"What was that for?" I asked, holding my cheek.

"For making me worry." She replied, shrugging, "Well, aren't you going to come in?"

I nodded and followed her inside, "So, tell me, why are you being watched?"

"Well," Hermione replied, grinning a little, "I assume that Rob, my partner at the police station is one of my observers – he didn't take too kindly to having his memories wiped – and that Malfoy is the other one. I probably pissed them both off a little."

"Malfoy found you?" I asked.

"Yes," I nodded, "But it's not like he can do a whole lot." She smiled at me, "I am, after all, a detective of the police force."

"As long as you're safe."

"I'm safe," she replied, smiling a little sadly, "So, how are you?"

"I'm fine," I replied, looking out the window, "My girlfriend is pregnant."

I didn't want to watch Hermione as I told her. I didn't want to know whether or not I hurt her by telling her that I had so obviously moved on. For a while, it was silent before she said, slowly.

"I'm happy for you."

"Thank you," I replied, "It's just, if I get into trouble, you'll tell her won't you? That I didn't want to leave her and the little one all alone?"

"I will," I replied, "Just…tell me her name and her address and I'll do what I can."

I scribbled the information down on a notepad and put it down next to her phone, "Thanks, Hermione. You're the best."

She simply smiled sadly. "I can't believe this."

"What?" I asked, looking up at her.

"Just the way that things worked out," she shrugged a little, "It doesn't matter anymore."

I nodded, "What happened to Ginny?"

"We don't know," Hermione replied, sighing a little, "At least we don't really know."

"What do you know?"

"I know that Malfoy was involved. I know that she has a daughter who she somehow saved which led to her death and…"

"A daughter?" I interrupted Hermione.

"Yes, her name's Camellia and she's living with Harry right now." Hermione replied.

"Can I visit her?" I asked, though I knew the answer before Hermione said anything.

"They're looking for her," Hermione replied, "We can't risk leading them there."

"Okay," I had to concede that Hermione had a point. She always had a point, "So, I saw Harry's message."

"You did?" Hermione asked, astonished, "I wasn't aware…"

"That I knew how to decipher them?" I asked, grinning.

"Yes," Hermione nodded, smiling, "I seem to always underestimate you, even now."

I looked up, startled. Hermione never admitted her mistakes. At least the Hermione of old didn't. Maybe I wasn't the only one who had changed during the years.

"Magic is coming back," Hermione said, walking into her kitchen and putting her kettle on the stove, "We don't know why it's happening so fast, but it is. We know of at least two cases. Both are children who were born after magic failed completely – in one case only a few months afterwards."

"Let me guess – one of them is Camellia."

Hermione nodded as she pulled two mugs out of the cupboard and collected some tea leaves from a container.

"And then there's Luna," Hermione said, when the kettle whistled. She pulled it from the stove and then sighed a little, "She died yesterday."

"What?" I asked, staring up at Hermione, startled.

"And she said that her death would bring magic back." Hermione poured some water onto the leaves before putting the kettle back down again.

I nodded and watched as Hermione approached one of the cabinets, "So what does that mean for us?"

"I don't know," Hermione replied, "There is something going on, Ron. Something terrible. The purebloods are planning something and I can't do anything because they're watching me and whatever I do, they'd know, immediately."

She stretched to reach the sugar. I continued watching her as she finally reached it and took it down before placing two cubes into my cup and one into her own. I nearly grimaced as I remembered that that really was the way I had always had my tea.

Now, I took it with milk instead of sugar. But Hermione hadn't asked and so I just accepted the cup that she had prepared for me and took a sip. As expected, it was too sweet.

"And now that Ginny's gone…" Hermione trailed off. I didn't need her to spell out that we were at a distinct disadvantage. I hadn't played chess for years for naught, after all.

"So, what would you have me do?" I asked, looking at her in a calculating manner. She always had a plan.

"I don't know." She replied, surprising me, "I am at a loss. I can't have Harry involved, he has to take care of the two girls and of the library. And Luna's daughter, Karen, just came into her inheritance. You can't really depend on her yet. And I'm stuck here since I'm being watched. And the Resistance has nearly no influence in Great Britain. At least not yet."

"So," I repeated, filing the information on the Resistance away for future references, "What would you have me do?"

"Find the rest of the D.A." Hermione replied, "We need more people."

"Hermione," I said, taking a deep breath, "It's not that clear cut anymore."

"What?" she asked, confused.

"You haven't been in touch with what's left of the magical world in a while, Hermione. You'll find that even people who fought against Voldemort back in the day are sympathetic to Malfoy's cause."

"I know that. But the means…"

"Sometimes they are justified by the end." I said, interrupting her, "I know, it's not what you want to hear, but Hermione, it's the way it is. Collin…"

"Is dead," she interrupted me, "I saw his body a few days ago."

"He was working for Malfoy. I don't know what happened, but I do know that he was working for him. Malfoy has a lot to offer. He is the only one who has a plan to get the magical world back together and get magic back."

Hermione scoffed, "Are you listening to yourself?"

"You know that that's not what I think, Hermione. I'm just putting it out there."

"So there's no one?" she asked, sitting down and taking a sip of her tea. I could see that she was somewhat defeated.

"I don't know," I said, honestly, "A lot of good people were killed right after it happened," I said, thinking of Neville and Hannah, and of Cho and Lavender and countless others. I sighed and shrugged, "And the other's, well, I don't know anything about their loyalties. I can try, but it'll take time. Most of them left, after all."

Hermione nodded and closed her eyes, leaning back, "So, basically, we have nothing. We don't have enough people to take on Malfoy – let's not even talk about Malfoy's boss."

"Malfoy has a boss?" I asked, astonished.

"Yes," Hermione nodded, "Ginny was sure that there was someone but, well…she could never tell me who it was."

We sat there in silence for a moment before she continued to talk, "We have no one on the inside, we have no information about them…we don't know what they're planning…"

"But we have Camellia and they want her. We could use her…" I trailed off, knowing that I could never use my niece to spring a trap like that.

"We have to try," Hermione said, looking at me, "Please, Ron, we have to try."

"Why?" I asked, suddenly, "Why can't we just accept that it's over, count our losses and move on?"

"Because that's not the way it works," Hermione said, "We can't just leave. Here," she stood up and went to a filing cabinet. A moment later she came back with a pile of files which she threw in front of me, "Look at this. These are all the murders that I could definitely link back to them," she gathered a second, larger pile, and put it down before me, too, "And these are the murders that I think they probably committed."

"Wow," I said, looking at the piles as I looked through the smaller pile. There were so many names. So many people, killed. Most had been linked through the "S" that was carved somewhere on their body.

For a moment I wondered about that "S". I assumed that it stood for Slytherin, but why would a group like that remind of Slytherin? They wanted to rebuild the magical community and by reminding everyone of Slytherin they were losing a lot of potential supporters.

"It doesn't stand for Slytherin," I said, suddenly.

"Yes, I figured as much," Hermione agreed, "But then what does it stand for?"

"I don't know," I replied as I reached a newer victim. No cause of death.

"How do they do it?" I asked.

"I don't know. I'm assuming A.K." Hermione offered, "I was stunned a few days ago."

"What?" I asked, startled, "You were stunned? Who stunned you?"

"Zabini." Hermione replied, "I think that whatever they're planning, it has something to do with me. Zabini stunned me and he simply left me there. He didn't take me with him."

"Have you been checked for bugs?" I asked, tilting my head, "Because that's what I'd do."

Hermione looked at me as though I was a genius, "You're ingenious," she replied, before taking off her clothes. I saw it as soon as she slipped off her t-shirt. There, beneath her shoulder blade was a small bump. I touched it, carefully, before taking a knife from the kitchen and cutting into the skin before pulling the bug out and throwing it onto the floor.

Hermione stomped on it while handing me a band aid which I put on her wound. She pulled on her shirt and picked up the destroyed bug before pocketing it.

"Did they hear anything important?" I asked but Hermione shook her head, "I don't think…" she trailed off, hitting her head.

"That's how they knew who I am. And where to find Camellia. That means that they heard about Karen, Luna's daughter. And about you."

I nodded, "Well, we can't do anything about me. Try to warn Karen."

"Karen will be warned," Hermione said, somewhat mysteriously, but I just accepted it. As I turned back towards the table I saw that Hermione's blood had been spattered across the files.

I sat back down and looked at the files. I saw several familiar faces that were all labled as John Does by the police. After I had reached Collin's file, there was just one more file left on the smaller pile.

I knew, instinctively, whose file it was. Ginny's.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Hermione said as I opened the file, but she was too late. I had already seen the pictures. Ginny was lying there, on the ground, sliced open.

"Do you think she was in pain?" I asked.

"No," Hermione shook her head in a decisive manner.

"Why are you so sure?" I asked, looking up at her in a suspicious manner before I looked at the M.E.'s report. I flipped through the pages until I reached the second to last page, "Hermione, tell me you didn't."

"I could," Hermione said, "But then I'd be lying. I gave her the poison. And I am thankful that I did. She was in no pain. It was her own choice."

"She died!" I exclaimed, getting up and wiping all the files to the floor, "And even if you had saved her, she wouldn't have survived."

"But we didn't. It was her choice, Ron," the woman before me said, her face a cold mask. And suddenly, I realized that I really didn't know her anymore. How could she be so cold? How could she just write my sister's death off like that?

It wasn't just some other pawn in her gigantic game of chess. It was my sister.

"I regret that she died, Ron," Hermione said as though she could read my mind, "I truly do and I really do miss her, but Ron, if she hadn't had that poison she would have been in pain. She would have been tortured to death."

"She still died, Hermione. And now you're the one who killed her."

Hermione looked down at her hands which were suddenly trembling, "I know, Ron," she said, closing her eyes for a brief second, "But still, I stand by my choice to give her the poison."

"You helped her commit suicide, Hermione."

"Ron, Ginny saved her daughter. She knew what she was risking and she made her choice."

I stood up and walked towards the door. There, I turned around, "Don't worry, Hermione, I'll still do what has to be done. But you should remember something, too. The ends don't justify the means for them and they don't justify them for us. Ginny was my sister and your best friend."

"I know all of that," Hermione replied, tears running down her cheeks. For a moment I was tempted to hug her and tell her that everything would be okay, but that wasn't my job anymore.

"I'm not sure you do, Hermione. I think that over the years you've forgotten a lot of things."

"Maybe," Hermione conceded, "But sometimes you just have to do what has to be done. There is no one else to do my job."

"Of course there is," I replied, "He just has to be found. Maybe it's time to give this job to someone else."

"I stand by my decision, Ron," Hermione repeated and I knew that I wouldn't make her think differently. If anything, she was stubborn.

I sighed and left the apartment. As I walked down the stairs I was tempted to shout back to Hermione that I didn't like my tea with two cubes of sugar anymore, but I bit my tongue.

I walked out the door and into the street when, suddenly, someone grabbed me from behind and put a bag over my head. From upstairs, I could hear Hermione screaming.

"Rob," she shouted, "Rob,"

I was pushed into a van and could feel it driving off. I couldn't believe this was happening to me.

As we drove off, I hoped that Hermione would find me. My last thought before something hit me over the head was that I hoped I'd get out of this alive – for Lydia and the little one.


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

I never looked up from my scrolls when the door opened and shut, "Just put it down," I said, without looking up.

"Where?" a voice asked, and I could practically hear the smirk. Finally, I looked up and pulled my glasses off my face.

I looked around, seeing that there really wasn't a lot of space left. Everything was covered in scrolls and papers and books: the desk, the chairs, even the floor. The only empty place was a small path from the door over to my desk.

"Just put it on this pile," I said, gesturing at the smallest pile I could find. My guest nodded and placed the armload down. This finally enabled me to see him clearly without papers obstructing my view.

He was tall, with red hair and freckles. "What are you researching?" he asked, suddenly. His accent seemed distinctively British which astonished me since we were in the middle of Romania and it had been years since I had talked to a fellow Brit.

I looked up, startled. Hadn't he heard of me, yet? Wasn't that the only reason why he was bringing me the papers? Most people who were new at the library came into this room once to see me. I was a curiosity.

My interest was magic. I had found documents to indicate that it existed. And not only that - there was a whole society connected to it. At least that's what I assumed from books that I had accidentally stumbled upon nearly a decade ago.

I had read through the books in record time and was now trying to find out more. I had found so many false leads but whenever I stumbled upon anything that seemed real, I was more and more amazed.

This society was great. It was better than fiction – with its dark lords and wars and struggles. And the creatures…oh, how they intrigued me. I would have given my left arm to get to see a dragon or a unicorn.

The sound of a throat being cleared called me back to the present and to the man standing in the doorway. So what was he doing here if he didn't know what I was researching? Wasn't he here to make fun of me as soon as he left the room?

"So?" he asked, looking at me. I could feel his eyes boring into my skull and I wondered what he saw when he looked at me.

I was too pale, I knew that, and I was a little overweight. I enjoyed eating too much and physical exercises too little. My hair was tied together in a messy bun and I wore no make-up. I must have looked like a lunatic bookworm whose sole reason to live was her research.

Well, I suppose, in a manner that was a correct observation. I had been divorced for three years now and I didn't see my son anymore – he lived with my ex-husband in London and wrote my research off like everyone else did.

"You do this often, don't you?" he asked, tilting his head.

I colored slightly and nodded.

"I used to know someone like you – someone whose mind was so amazingly complicated that she often forgot herself."

I smiled a little at him and looked down at my research which I couldn't read anymore since I was still holding my glasses in my hands.

"So, what are you researching?" he asked.

"Magic," I replied, waiting for a response. I had expected him to laugh, or at least for his lip to quirk a little and dismiss me as insane. When that didn't happen, I pulled up an eyebrow.

"What?" I asked, "No response?"

"No," the man shook his head, "It's just been a while since I met someone who studied magic."

"So you've met others? Others like me?" I asked, suddenly, inexplicably giddy.

"Not like you, no," the man shook his head, "So, tell me, what are you looking at now?"

"The reason why this other world died. Why it doesn't exist anymore. Something happened fifteen years ago and I have no idea what it is."

"Join the club," the man seemed to mutter but when I asked for clarification, he just waved it off.

"I was told that you have a message for me." The man suddenly said, "A message from the Weasel."

The Weasel was my best supplier of books and thus I never asked him for his true name. He always found books for me and whenever he was in the city I made it a point to meet him. Still, I had the suspicion that he kept the best books for himself.

"A message?" I asked, tilting my head and frowning a little. Over the last few years, the Weasel had tucked small envelopes into the books he left me. When I opened them, they always contained a letter which seemed to be gibberish accompanied by a note addressed to me, "Give this to the man who comes asking for it."

Only no one ever came asking for the letters. They just disappeared during the night. So it took me a while to remember the letter.

I looked around, trying to locate it on my desk, before picking it up and handing him the envelope.

"Thank you," the man nodded at me.

"I'm not sure how much help that letter is going to be to you." I offered as he opened it and looked inside.

"Don't worry about it," he smiled, before he tucked the envelope into his pocket and turned around.

"Well, I'll leave you to it," the man said, and left the room, closing the door behind himself. I looked at the closed door for a while before I put my glasses back on and continued my research.

I don't know how long I was engrossed in my papers when, suddenly, there was a knock on my door. Before I could reply, the door was opened with a bang, causing one of my taller piles of paper to topple over.

The man entered the room again and closed the door behind himself, "We have to leave," he said, suddenly, "Come on."

"What?" I asked, staring at him.

"I have been found," he said, as though that explained everything, "They are after me. And now they've finally caught up with me. And your research…you need to destroy it and leave."

I looked up at the man as he pulled out a lighter, "Don't you dare," I said, glaring at him, "That's my life's work. You have no idea what I've sacrificed for this."

"This is all replaceable," the man said, "Your life isn't. Trust me, we have to go."

"I don't know you," I replied, "I don't even know your name. And I'll have you know that these are unique."

He picked up a random book, turned it over and smirked at me, "My name is Charles Weasley," the man said, "And I have a copy of most of these books. I'll make sure you get them all if you left me destroy your things."

I looked at my office. At the piles of scrolls and books that I had carefully collected and at my notes. I pulled a USB stick out of my pocket and made a copy of my most important files before getting up from my chair.

I had no idea – I still have no idea – what made me do it. I still don't know why on earth I trusted this stranger and let him destroy my research. I just know that a few seconds later I found myself on the street.

The fire alarm went off and suddenly the whole library was evacuating. As I ran down the street, I turned around and looked up. I could see a dark cloud of smoke coming out of my office window and I knew, without a doubt, that everything I had worked for was gone. That is, everything except for my memory stick.

We rounded a corner and suddenly, the library had disappeared from my view. I came to a sudden halt and whirled around to face the man – Charles.

"Explain," I said, glaring at him.

"There is nothing to explain," Charles replied, "They found me and I couldn't risk letting them get you."

"Me?" I asked, pulling up an eyebrow, "What on earth could be important about me? It sure as hell isn't my research."

"No," Charles smiled and shook his head, "It isn't your research. It's the fact that you're openly researching magic. That's made some previously very powerful wizards and witches angry.

"That's nonsense," I argued, "Magic doesn't exist."

"Not anymore," Charles agreed, smirking.

Suddenly, we heard footsteps. Charles looked around a corner before turning back towards me and cursing quietly, "They found us," he added, softly, "I can't believe they found us."

I was about to ask who they are, when a woman rounded the corner, smiling in a seemingly friendly manner, "Hello, Weasley," she said, smiling a little, "It's been a while."

"Yes," the man agreed, "It has. Though I can't say that I missed you, Parkinson."

"Well," the woman shrugged, "I'm not asking you to. I have to say, I do feel a little let down. After all, I expected the end to be much more…I don't know, befitting of a Weasley."

"I'm not George," the man said, smiling a little, "I can assure you that I have no fireworks up my sleeve."

"No?" the woman asked and it seemed almost as though she was disappointed. Almost.

"No," Charles said, again, "But I do have an escape plan," he said, surprising me greatly before he began to run, pulling me after him.

Before a motorcycle, he came to a stop, jumped on and pulled me on behind himself before driving off.

I held on, scared halfway to death. I couldn't believe that I was actually escaping on a motorcycle. Suddenly the exciting part of the magical life which I had always envied seemed much less appealing and I simply yearned for my little, quiet study.

A few moments later, we had arrived. Charles got off and helped me down, too. "Where are we?" I asked once I regained my breath.

"At my house," the man said, "Come on, we don't have long."

I looked around as we entered a small cottage. It was cluttered but nowhere near as messy as my study had been. On the walls, there were drawings of dragons and pictures of a largely red-headed family.

Charles pushed open a door and I was suddenly in a library. As I looked at the books I realized that they truly were the books that I had had in my office, "Where did you get them?" I asked, turning to look at the man before me.

"I collected them," he replied, "You should take what you want to take before I destroy the rest. I can't leave them behind for them to find."

"Who are they?"

"A group of people who are looking for people like me," the man said, looking around before pulling out certain books which I assumed he was going to take along. I did the same and discovered that there were far more books than I had ever collected.

"Why are they following you?" I asked.

"Because of these books," the man replied, "Though, of course, this isn't the biggest collection. I know as a matter of fact that there is at least one bigger collection."

"I would die to get my hands on that," I said, looking up at him. I was sure that my eyes sparkled and my cheeks were reddened in excitement at the prospect of studying those books because Charles gave a deep, throaty laugh before turning back towards the books.

"Well, let's see," he said, smiling, "Who knows, you might get the chance."

The books were a wide variety: spell books, potion books, history books…I was in heaven.

I grabbed as many history books as possible, since that was my passion – and, maybe, they would tell me what happened to that society.

"They won't tell you," Charles said, suddenly, startling me.

"What?" I asked, turning to face him, a heavy book in my hands.

"They won't tell you anything about why everything collapsed," Charles replied, "They were written before that time."

I nodded and still added the book to the ever growing pile next to me.

"We should hurry," Charles said, suddenly, "Come on,"

I bent down to pick up the pile of books and tried to follow the man quickly, but I stumbled over something and soon I lay there, between books. Charles halted and turned around before sighing and walking back over to my side.

He helped me up before he quickly put the books into a pile. He picked up the larger pile before he walked off again.

I followed him, this time at a slower pace and more cautious. Soon, we found ourselves in a garage. Charles popped the trunk of the car and I could see that there were already suitcases packed. He added the pile of books and gestured for me to do the same before he slammed the trunk shut again.

"Let's get going," he said, and got into the driver's seat. I followed his lead and got into the car, too.

Charles pressed button and the door opened, slowly. He grinned, strapped his seatbelt and turned the ignition before driving off. Once we had put about half a mile of distance between the car and the house, Charles threw me a strange device, "Push the button," he ordered.

I did as I was told and a second later, the whole cottage went up in flames. I startled and gripped Charles' arm tightly, which caused him to swerve dangerously before he regained control of the car.

I watched the man as he drove into the darkness and once again I was astonished at what had happened in the last few hours. I had burned down my study, everything I had worked for, just because a stranger had told me to. And now he was sitting there, driving me to god only knows where.

"Where are we going?" I asked, after we had been driving for an hour, deciding that enough was enough.

"Bulgaria," the man replied, "I know someone there who might be able to help us."

"Help us?" I asked, looking at him, "Why do we need help?"

"Because Parkinson is still following us," the man replied, "At least she's trying to find us right now. I'm sorry I involved you."

"I still don't get why I was in danger," I said, suddenly, turning to face him, "I'm going back."

"Back to what?" he asked, "You burned everything down."

"Why did you take me along?"

"You were passing along letters for us," the man said, sighing, "I'm sorry that we involved you, but they knew how we communicated and that you were an important link. They would have killed you just to cut off our means of communication."

"Who are they?" I asked.

"After magic failed," Charles started, keeping his eyes on the road before him, "The magical world split into two groups. One group started to try to rebuild the world, to somehow make magic come back. They call themselves _The Saviors_. The other group just hid or tried to integrate itself into the muggle world."

"Muggle?" I asked, tilting my head as I looked at the man next to me, "You're one of them."

"Not anymore," the man smiled but still I could feel that something was different about him.

"So, what happened?"

"The group that's fighting for magic – well, they are mostly made up of people who fought in the last war and of their children. And slowly they've lost all scruples on their quest for magic."

"And what are you going to do?" I asked.

"I'm going to stop them." He said and if he hadn't been so serious, I would have laughed outright. It seemed ludicrous that he could possibly stop a whole group of people, consisting of old veterans.

"Not alone, of course," he said, as though he had read my thoughts.

"How do you know the Weasel?" I asked, knowing that I wouldn't get more information about the war from him.

"He's my brother," the man replied, and suddenly I could see the resemblance. They shared the same red hair, the same blue eyes and they had the same intense look about them.

We drove throughout the whole night when, suddenly, Charles pulled the car over and drove a bit further off the road until the car came to a sputtering halt. I looked out the window and saw that we were in one of the forests.

Charles pulled the key out of the ignition and placed it under his seat before gesturing for me to get out of the car. I did as I was told while he covered it with leaves and branches that were lying around, "Someone will come back for it," he said, as he threw me a sweater before walking off into the night.

With nothing else to do but follow him, I did so but not without complaining thoroughly. I couldn't believe that I was really in the woods at night and following a near-stranger to an unknown destination.

I don't know how long we trekked up that mountain or how far we went, I just know that my legs were aching and I was struggling for every breath by the time that Charles came to a stop, seemingly unperturbed by the physical struggles.

"What?" I asked, thoroughly annoyed.

"We're here," the man replied.

"Where?" I scoffed, seeing nothing but the mountain and trees covered in a cloak of darkness.

He smiled and walked forwards towards the mountain. He pulled away a curtain which covered the entrance to a cave and smiled, "Ladies first," he said.

"No way," I shook my head, "I am not going into a dark cave."

"Suit yourself," he shrugged and entered the cave before letting the curtain fall down behind him leaving me all alone in the dark forest.

For a moment I stood still when I heard a howl in the distance. I quickly approached the curtain, pulled it back and entered the cave with quick paces.

"Took you long enough," a familiar voice said. I whirled around and saw Charles standing there, leaning against the wall and smirking.

"You waited for me," I said, smiling.

"Of course," he said, walking off, "I couldn't leave you out there on your own, now could I?"

I sighed and followed him again. "So, what is this place?" I asked, as we hurried down further into the mountain.

"It's The Resistance." Charles said, without further explanation, though I could practically hear the capital letters.

"Resistance?" I asked, "Against what?"

"Against the Saviors," he said as though that was completely obvious.

"There is a resistance?" I asked, "I thought that those who didn't join the Saviors went into hiding."

"Look around yourself," Charles said, smirking, "We are in hiding."

"So you don't want magic back?" I asked, looking at Charles closely.

He was about to reply when, suddenly, a group of people approached.

"Weasley," one of them said, in a heavy Eastern European accent, "Victor wants to talk to you."

Charles nodded and sighed, "What does he want?"

"I don't know," the man said, shrugging, "He said that it's personal."

Charles nodded again and walked off, down a corridor on the left. He was halfway down, when he turned around, raised an eyebrow and asked, "Well, are you coming?"

I hurried down the corridor after him and met him just as he was about to enter one of the rooms. He didn't knock and simply pushed the door open, "Hey, Victor," he said, taking a seat, "What is it?"

I followed him into the room and looked around. The walls were bare except for a poster which hung behind the desk, portraying a group of people in uniforms holding brooms.

"It's…" the man occupying the desk started to say before he trailed off, looking decidedly lost.

"Victor, just tell me." Charles said, sighing, "I can take it, you know I can."

"It's Ginny," Victor replied, "She was killed a few days ago. I just heard from Hermione. And…Ron's been captured."

His accent was becoming more and more obvious as he struggled to find the correct words. He looked around, his eyes suddenly meeting mine and I knew that he wondered who I was.

Charles collapsed onto one of the chairs in the room and sighed, "I can't say I didn't expect to hear this years ago," he said, blinking rapidly. I had the feeling that he was fighting back the tears, "I never expected them to survive the first war."

"I'm so sorry," Victor said, lowering his eyes, "If you want to go back to England…"

"And do what?" Charles asked, frowning, "There's nothing I can do."

I watched, in silence, wondering who Ginny and Ron were but didn't dare to ask.

I stood there, waiting for the silence to be broken when, suddenly, Charles straightened his back, sat upright and pulled the letter I had handed him out of his pocket. Victor took the letter and seemed to be able to read it easily even though I was sure that it only contained gibberish.

Slowly, the man lowered the letter, "Is Bill all right?" was the first thing that Charles asked.

I assumed that Bill was the Weasel's real name. "He's fine – at least, at the moment," Victor said, looking at Charles, "How were things with Parkinson?"

"We had a small run-in." Charles shrugged, "Nothing unusual. I'm afraid she might have followed me a little further than I'd have liked her to, but I think I lost her at the border."

"I'll send a team to make sure," Victor said, "How soon are you ready to set out again?"

"Immediately," Charles replied, "Especially if it's to help Bill."

"Bill knows what they're planning. He knows how they're gaining magic. And he says it's worse than we imagined. He couldn't put it into the letter in case it got intercepted."

Charles nodded, "Where do I meet him?"

"He's in Bulgaria," Victor replied, "In Serres, to be exact."

"That's not far from the border," Charles said, nodding, "I can be there by noon tomorrow."

Victor nodded, "I've had someone get your things to your quarters. So, they finally found your house, haven't they?"

"I thought the cottage was safe – It was my home since before the last war."

Victor smiled sadly, "We've all lost our homes."

Charles nodded before he remembered me, "That's Catherine Johnson, by the way,"

"Nice to meet you," the man said, nodding at me, "I'm Victor Krum. I'd get up, but…" he trailed off and gestured to where his legs should be.

I hadn't noticed before that instead of legs, the man had stumps. "The war," the man offered, smiling a little as he knew what I was trying to ask without appearing tactless.

"So you fought in the last war?" I asked, excited to finally meet someone who could tell me about the war.

"I did. But if you want more information, you should talk to Charlie here," the man smiled, "He was far more involved than I was. And his family…" he trailed off at a stern look from Charles.

"You didn't tell me you fought in the war," I said, glaring at the man.

"When should I have told you?" the man asked, smirking as he turned around to face me, "After putting your office on fire or after blowing up my house?"

"How about during our ride?" I asked, pulling up an eyebrow.

Charles just shrugged and got up, "I'll be ready to leave within the hour."

"Okay," he nodded, "Ksenia asked me to tell you that she is on a mission. And that she'll talk to you as soon as you regain your common sense…which, apparently, isn't going to be soon." He added at the glance he caught from Charles.

"I told her…" Charles started, before he shook his head, "It doesn't matter. Thank you, anyways," he finished, before leaving the office. We walked down the corridor for at least two miles before Charles pushed open a door and entered a small room which was filled with the suitcases that he had put into the trunk of his car just hours ago.

The man sighed and walked over to the closet – the only furniture apart from the bed in the otherwise sparely decorated room, as I noticed – and opened it. He pulled out a fresh pair of pants and a new shirt before he began to change.

For lack of anything else to do, I looked around the room. There was nothing on the walls, no personal items cluttered the room – apart from the things that were in the suitcases.

"I don't spend a lot of time here," Charles said and again I had the distinct impression as though he was reading my mind.

"How do you do that?" I asked, turning to face him.

"Do what?" Charles asked, pulling a sweater over his head.

"How do you know what I am thinking?"

"I don't," the man replied, "You're just easy to read."

"I am not," I replied before looking up at the man before me, "So, when are we leaving?"

"_We_ are not leaving. I am leaving."

"And what am I supposed to do? Stay here and twiddle my thumbs?"

"Of course not," the man replied, "You have all these books," he gestured around the room and for a moment it really was rather tempting to just stay here.

"I don't know anyone here," I argued, "I have no idea who these people are and I feel out of place – plus, I want to know what's going on just as much as you do. I'm coming with you and that's final."

Charles looked at me, sizing me up. He seemed to deliberate whether I was bearable enough not to warrant a long discussion. "Fine," he said, apparently reaching a conclusion, "You can come along. But if I tell you to run, you run."

I nodded, knowing that that was going to be as much as I was going to get. An hour later, we had left the system of caves and had walked down the mountain again. Charles uncovered the car, took the key from under the seat and got into the car. I followed his lead whilst Charles started the engine and drove off into the night.

For a long while, we said nothing before I finally broke the silence, "How are we going to find Bill?" I asked, "I mean, who knows how many people live in Serres?"

"We're not going to Serres," Charles replied.

"We're not?" I asked, startled.

"No. We're going to Skopje," he answered, "Bill would never put his location into a letter.

"You do realize that Skopje is an ever bigger city, right?" I asked, pulling up an eyebrow.

"Yes, Catherine," Charles said, sighing, "I know where to find him."

I realized when he didn't tell me where to find Bill that he didn't trust me – at least not completely. And I also realized that he'd taken a risk – a rather large one, at that, by taking me into the Resistance.

Was that why we had taken the long way into and out of the caves? I had had the suspicion that there was a shorter, easier way. After all, the luggage had been in the room beforehand and Victor had known about our presence – and the contents of the luggage – as soon as we entered the caves.

"It's nothing personal," Charles offered, and I knew that was as close as I was going to get to an apology. I shrugged, understanding his point of view.

"We're never going to make it before noon," I said, shifting in my seat to find a comfortable position.

"It's times like these I miss magic most," Charles sighed, "Or, at least my dad's car."

I didn't dare ask what Charles' father had done to their car and instead drifted into a vivid dream, featuring cars, mountains and, for some inexplicable reason, my ex-husband.

The next thing I remember is being shaken awake by Charles, "We've arrived," he said, grinning.

"How long have I been asleep?" I asked, startled.

"Nearly eight hours," the man said, grinning even wider, "And we did make it by noon – if only just."

He parked the car and together we got out of the car, "Please tell me we don't have to go up that mountain."

"If it makes you feel better," Charles shrugged, "We don't have to go up that mountain," he said, before starting the hike.

"Liar," I shouted after him before turning to follow him again. As I walked up the mountain I pondered – for the umpteenth time – what I had gotten myself into. I was in way over my head - that much I knew.

The walk was a relatively short one – at least compared to the hike we had taken the in Bulgaria – and we reached the Millenium Cross in a relatively short while.

Charles entered the souvenir shop which was situated right next to the cross. I followed him in, hurrying to catch up.

I came in just in time to see him hugging the Weasel who was wearing a uniform and apparently worked there.

"I'm taking five," the Weasel hollered back towards his boss before guiding Charles out of the shop and towards a lonely park bench.

"Bill, you know Catherine, don't you? Catherine, my brother, Bill the Weasel." Charles chortles.

"Hey, no making fun of my name," Bill said, but his grin belied his words, "You try thinking of something within a second."

"Okay, okay," Charles grinned before sitting down, "So, what have you discovered?"

"I know how they do it," Bill said, lowering his voice before throwing me a nervous glance.

"Just tell us already," Charles said, "If she's one of them, she already knows this."

"No, she wouldn't," Bill shook his head, "Not many people know this – it's why it took us so long to discover. I think apart from Malfoy there are only two more people who know."

"Bill, tell me," Charles said, looking up at his brother.

"I managed to get into one of their research facilities. They have managed to bottle magic."

"They have what?" Charles asked, staring at his brother, "How?"

I looked at Bill and could tell immediately, just by looking at his face, that it wasn't good.

"Tell me, Bill," Charles repeated again and Bill nodded.

"All right," the man said, nodding again.


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

I took another sip of my red wine, savoring the taste to buy me some time to think before replying. Just as I was about to answer, my companion shook his head and waved the answer away.

"It's not important anyways," he said, turning his attention away from me and towards his glass of wine.

Just when I was sure that he wasn't going to say anything else, he asked the question that I had expected all evening.

"So, how did it go?" he asked. I sighed and got up. Placing my glass down I began to pace.

"You're making me dizzy," the man complained, leaning back in his chair, "It's not that complicated."

"I haven't been to see him yet," I confessed, coming to a sudden stop and turning to face him, "I just couldn't do it."

"Merlin, Zabini," the man said, running a hand through his blond hair, "You got an order."

"I know," I replied, sighing.

"It's about Ginerva, isn't it?" Malfoy asked. I didn't have to reply for him to know that, once again, he was correct.

"You realize that she was playing us all along, don't you?" Malfoy asked, pulling up an eyebrow.

"What if we're wrong?" I asked, suddenly, "What if she was right and we're wrong?"

"We aren't," Malfoy replied, "You know that we have to ensure that our world survives this. We are doing the right thing."

"And what if we aren't?" I asked, tilting my head to the side, "What if our world should not be saved?"

Malfoy just shook his head, "I think you're drunk, Zabini," he said, and leaned his head back. For him the matter was closed.

I just wished it was that easy, I thought as I retook my seat and sipped my wine. I swirled my glass and looked down at the red liquid. Contemplatively, I took another sip.

I felt the alcohol rise to my head and my tongue become heavier. I closed my eyes as I remembered what Ginerva had once told me.

"_Just because we want the world to be the way we want it to be doesn't mean that it will be that way. Sometimes, we just have to accept things and move on."_

"_Then why are you here?" _I had returned, raising an eyebrow, _"Don't pretend that you want it any less than we do."_

"_I'm not pretending." _She had replied, _"I just know that there is a price that I am not willing to pay. There are things that are worth more than…"_

"_More than our lives?"_ I had interrupted her, causing her to look at me in a manner that made me think that she could look straight through me. And then she found something, which caused her to smile sadly.

"_I'm sorry. Forget it."_ She said, turning away. I thought I could see something in her eyes – disappointment, maybe.

That day she had planted a seed of doubt. A seed of doubt that had grown steadily ever since that day. I had never been especially close to Ginerva but I had considered her a friend.

I never really understood her, either. I never understood why she hadn't gone into hiding with Potter. I had expected her to marry him after Hogwarts and to never look back.

"Did you ever love her?" I asked, suddenly, startling Malfoy who was nearly asleep.

"I don't know," the man admitted, shrugging a little, "In the beginning, it was just to spite Potter, fat load of good that did," he barked a dry laugh before continuing, "And then…well…" he trailed off, "I suppose I never knew her."

I nodded as he unknowingly echoed the words I had said to Ginerva only days before. I sighed as my eyes closed and I drifted off to sleep.

It seemed like no time had passed when, suddenly, someone poked me. "Merlin, Malfoy, stop it," I muttered, but the poking continued.

I opened my eyes before squeezing them shut again as the light hit my eyes in a painful manner.

"You have to get up," Malfoy said, "You still have to go see him."

I sighed and opened my eyes again. I was a little hung over and wished, once again, for my magic. For a second, I was tempted to uncork one of the vials that stood on the shelves, but I already dreaded the consequences. Nevertheless, I knew I would have to face them later that day. Still, I would drag it out as long as I could – not only because of the consequences but also because I hated how these vials were filled.

And so I downed the coffee that Malfoy was handing me while muttering something about house elves. I grimaced before getting up and running a hand through my hair.

Malfoy sighed and left the room, "Just do it all ready," he said, before walking off. I sighed and walked over to the shelf where I had stored the vials. I looked at them and picked one up. Holding it into the sunlight, it caught the rays and glimmered in a deep blue color.

I smiled a little before I uncorked the vial I had picked up and downed it in one go. I grimaced at the taste before I squeezed my eyes shut as a warm tingling engulfed me. I felt my core opening up and accepting the magic as it seeped back into me.

Already I was dreading the moment when it would leave me again. Already I felt my core trying to make the magic its own and failing. I pulled out my wand and cast a simple cleaning charm. I felt the tingles run all over me and I smiled a little as the doubt I had felt the previous night dissipated.

Magic was worth everything. Every sacrifice I made was more than worth it.

And then I remembered the costs. I remembered the reason why Ginerva had finally had enough. And I remembered the letters I wrote to Potter.

I left the room and walked down the stairs and towards the dungeons. I could hear voices whispering and sometimes shouting. Goyle greeted me as I walked into one of the darker corridors. "Are you here to see him?" he asked.

I only nodded. Goyle grinned and gestured for me to enter the interrogation room. I took a seat and waited. A little less than five minutes later, Goyle came back, dragging a tall man with him.

It took me a moment to recognize him even though I knew who he was. His red hair was covered in grime – as were his clothes. And his eyes were lowered. Had he given up already, I wondered? Had he given up without a fight? Just like that?

Somehow I couldn't believe it. After all, he had fought against Voldemort. And he had been victorious. I nodded at Goyle, gesturing for him to take off the cuffs.

"Hello, Weasley," I said as Goyle reluctantly removed the cuffs before leaving the room, "Why don't you take a seat?"

Weasley looked at me for a moment, sizing me up, and I was reminded of his sister for a moment as he, too, seemed to be able to look through me.

"Zabini," he said, taking a seat, "What do you want?"

"Oh, please, call me Blaise," I said, smiling at the man before me.

"Right," he said, pulling up an eyebrow, "So, what do you want?"

"What makes you think I want anything from you?"

"Please, let's stop playing games. I've been on both sides of this interrogation far too often." He turned his head, "And to think that I was so sure I was out of this – permanently."

I nodded as I acquiesced his wishes – out of respect for him and for his sister. "We want to know what you're planning," I replied, leaning back and watching the man's face for any movement.

"Planning?" the man asked, tilting his head, "Why, I'm planning nothing except for a christening, maybe. We haven't really discussed it yet. But one thing's for sure - you're not invited."

"I'm not?" I asked, smiling sadly, "How sad. What did I do?"

"Apart from killing my sister?" the man asked, "Nothing much, I suppose."

So he had heard about Ginerva. "I'm sorry about Ginerva," I said, sincerely.

"Really?" the man asked, pulling up an eyebrow, "Why do I find that so hard to believe?"

"I don't know," I said, shrugging a little, "It doesn't matter," I looked at him again, "So, tell me, what's Granger's brilliant plan?"

"I wouldn't call it brilliant." The man replied, "It's not really much of a plan, anyways."

"Really?" I drawled, unable to believe that despite the fact that I had listened to the bug I had planted on her that night in Ginerva's flat.

"Really," the man assured me, surprisingly honest.

"Well, that wasn't worth the effort," I replied, grinning a little.

"Yes, it seems that way, doesn't it?" he asked, smiling, "Why did you take me? I mean, why not take her directly?"

"Because we thought you could be of so much more use to us," I replied, leaning back, "And she has already made her opinion of us very clear."

"You cannot be serious," the man said, pulling up an eyebrow, "You want me to join you?"

"I am quite serious," I replied, smiling at the man.

"Why on earth would I join you?" he asked, "You killed my only sister, you kidnapped me and your hospitality here is…well, substandard to say the least," he pointedly looked at the state of his clothes.

"We didn't kill your sister," I said, "She poisoned herself."

"You would have killed her if she hadn't been faster," the man said, sighing a little, "But never mind all of that. Explain it to me – why would you want me? After Ginny's betrayal, you could never trust me. I would be a liability rather than an asset."

"You couldn't betray us," I assured him, smiling a little, "In a short while everyone will know about our plans. And…we have things that you would do anything for. Things to assure your loyalty."

"My loyalty?" Weasley sneered in a way that would have made Malfoy envious had he been there, "My loyalty cannot be bought."

"Not with money, no," I said, smirking, "But with magic…with magic, everything can be bought."

"You're telling me that you have magic?" the man asked, leaning forwards and showing true interest in what I had to say for the first time.

"I do," I replied, "And so could you – if you were to join us."

He tilted his head, "Prove it," he commanded rather than requested. Still, I had him exactly where I wanted him and so I pulled out my wand, slowly. I could see his eyes widening.

It was almost too easy. It always was, lately. All I had to do was cast a spell or two – including a cleaning spell – and I had them. I waved my wand and I felt it, the magic rushing through me, urging to come out.

But it wasn't like it used to be. I didn't have a nearly unlimited amount of magic at my disposal. I only had as much magic as that one vial gave me. And it was rather unpredictable – some vials lasted for nearly twenty four hours whilst others contained just enough magic for a few spells.

"And you're saying that you'd be willing to share this?" Weasley asked, leaning back again.

I shrugged a little, "There is enough for everyone. We could rebuild our world. We could make Diagon Alley, Hogwarts, St. Mungo's and the Ministry rise from the ashes again. We could start a new world, we could form a whole civilization. We have it all at our fingertips – at the tips of our wands."

I could see that Weasley was thinking about it all before he asked, "And where is all that magic coming from? Why do you have it while everyone else is still basically a squib?"

I smirked a little, "That's for me to know and for you to find out," I said, though, truthfully, I doubted that he would be told.

Weasley looked at me and for a moment I thought that he was going to agree before he shook his head, "I was taught a long time ago not to trust something that you cannot understand. And I don't understand this so I don't trust it."

I looked at Weasley and realized that maybe he wasn't as different from his sister as I had assumed. There were similarities that I had previously overlooked. And he was far smarter than I had expected him to be – far smarter than I remembered him to be.

And now that he sat before me, smiling at me, I realized that he truly did look a whole lot like her, too. "Tell me," I said, suddenly, "Where is Potter hiding?"

"In a safe place," the man replied, smiling.

"Where is Potter hiding?" I asked again, but the man gave no response.

I raised my wand, "One last time," I threatened, "Where is Potter hiding?"

Weasley just smiled at me in response, "I don't know," he shrugged.

"You're lying," I said, staring at him.

"Hermione made the plan," Weasley said, suddenly, surprising me. I hadn't expected him to say more than necessary. I had expected him to be angry, to shout and not to talk in a level voice and actually make reasonable statements, "Don't you think she counted on one of us being captured? She made sure we couldn't cause the others damage. And she took measures to prevent herself from knowing too much, too."

"Where is Camellia?"

"Who?" Weasley asked, grinning. I had a feeling that he knew exactly who I was talking about.

"Don't pretend to be stupider than you are," I said, "Where is Camellia?"

"With Harry," Weasley said, smiling a little, "Tell me, what happened to her?"

"Your sister took her," I said, unwilling to delve further into the events that had caused Ginerva's death.

"Tell me about the Resistance."

"I know nothing about the Resistance." Weasley replied, "Except that they exist – but mostly on the continent."

I looked at him closely and closed my eyes, hating the following part. Without moving my lips, I cast a pain curse causing Weasley to writhe in his chair.

"Tell me about Camellia," I ordered.

"She's safe," Weasley replied, "With Harry."

"Where is Potter?"

"Why do you do it, Zabini?" Ron asked, suddenly, "Why do you do it?"

"Why do I do it?" I repeated, incredulous, "I do it for our society. I do it to regain everything that we've lost."

"And the children?" he asked, suddenly, slamming his hand on the table before us, "What did they do to be sacrificed for our dreams?"

I sat back, looking at him, wondering what he knew about the children apart from the fact that they were kept in cells close to his, "They don't deserve magic," I said, frowning, "They have taken it from us."

"No," Weasley shook his head, "Magic doesn't belong to anyone."

"It's my heritage," I said, leaning forwards, "It's my birthright. And now all these muggle-born children have magic while we don't have it? They can't even appreciate the gift they have – they're terrified of magic."

"That still doesn't give you the right to keep them the way you are," Weasley argued back, looking at me in an intense manner, "It doesn't give you the right to keep them like guinea pigs. I've seen them – they're too thin, dirty and scared. When your doctors come for them, they begin to cry."

"They have taken what is rightfully ours."

"Merlin, it's not like it was their choice. Or like they could do anything about it."

I simply shook my head, "I thought you would understand." I said, "But maybe you're too much like her."

"I'm not," he shook his head, "It's just that I have no interest in this world anymore. I am starting my own family."

I looked at him, tilting my head, "Your wife is pregnant?" I asked.

"My girlfriend is," Weasley nodded.

"I see," I replied, looking at him critically, "Give us the child and we'll let you go."

Weasley laughed, not bothering to reply.

"I am serious," I assured the man, "You're not getting out of here alive. And we'll find her and your child anyways. This is a win-win situation – you'll go free and we'll never bother you again while you are saving us the trouble of having to spend time looking for your child."

"Despite everything else, I am still a Weasley," the man said, "Family is the most important thing in my life."

I smiled, "I had expected as much. Still, I had to offer."

Without another word, I pulled out my wand again, "So, I take it you're not going to cooperate?"

"No," the man shook his head, "And I'll have you know that Voldemort himself tortured me – you won't have any luck."

"Maybe not," I responded, "But I'd be a fool not to try."

"Is this where you tortured and killed Ginny?" Weasley suddenly asked, looking around with a morbid curiosity.

"I didn't touch Ginerva," I said, vehemently.

"Interesting," the man before me said, looking at me in a bizarre manner, "I hadn't expected that."

"Hadn't expected what?" I asked.

"That you'd actually care about Ginny."

I shook my head, unwilling – or maybe unable – to answer. Instead, I gave my wand a small flick and had Weasley writhing on the floor before me. Normally, this would fill me with the familiar feeling of content that the Dark Arts always left in me, but that day I was unable to feel anything.

Nothing, except for anger. I was incredibly angry, though I could not pinpoint the cause.

I don't know how long I tortured Weasley, asking questions that got no answer, but I do know that by the time I was finished Weasley was unable to move and the magic within me was nearly used up. I waved my wand one last time and cleaned the man up before leaving. As I did so, I felt this inexplicable anger within me subside slightly.

"Did you leave something for me to work with?" a man asked, stopping me on my way up the stairs.

"See for yourself," I said, rather harshly, as I pushed past him. I wanted to be in my rooms by the time it would happen.

However, just as I was about to enter my room, a woman stopped me, "Hello, Blaise," she mumbled in her Eastern European accent, leaning forwards to press a kiss on my lips.

"Ksenia," I greeted her, smiling despite the fact that I really yearned to be in my room.

"So," she said, looking at me closely, "I see you've been seeing the prisoners again."

I nodded, "Yes, Weasley's quite a stubborn man."

"Weasley?" she asked, her breath catching. I pulled up an eyebrow and nodded.

"You've heard of the Weasleys?" I asked.

"Who hasn't?" the woman asked, sighing a little, "So, which one is down there?"

I felt the magic leave me in quickly and so I simply shook my head and left the woman standing in the corridor. This was the part I hated.

I could feel my core struggling to hold the magic that was quickly escaping me. I could feel my core stretching and contracting, and I could feel the magic slip through its grasp.

As the last bit of magic left me, I collapsed on my bed. My whole body hurt and I couldn't keep my eyes open anymore. I let my eyes fall shut as I felt my body spasm. I fingered my wand and suddenly it felt like a useless piece of wood. I was no longer connected to it.

I opened my eyes, feeling the loneliness. Whenever magic left me, I felt it washing over me. I looked over at my stack of potions and for a moment I was tempted to simply uncork another vial and down it to get magic back and to get rid of this incredible feeling of loneliness.

But I couldn't do it. Because, despite everything else, Weasley had had a point. These children had done nothing to warrant the way we used them. They had not chosen to be born with magic in a time when magic was so scarce.

Suddenly, an alarm went off. It took me a moment to realize that it was the fire alarm. Still, somehow, I couldn't bring myself to get up.

For a moment, I was ready to burn. I lay there, listening to footsteps running by my door and to frantic shouts. I listened to guards discussing what to do with the prisoners.

I don't know for how long I lay there, unmoving. I was ready to let go. I had done horrible things and everyone has to atone for what they do sometimes. Maybe, I reasoned, my time had come.

And then, I heard Ksenia whispering in the corridor. I got up and made my way over to the door, slowly. I pushed it open and leaned against the wall as even the effort to stand straight exhausted me.

There, in the corridor, stood Ksenia, supporting Weasley as she helped him towards the exit.

"I should have known," I said, quietly. Still, Ksenia whirled around, a gun in her hand.

"Don't move," she ordered, glaring at me.

"I'm not planning to," I agreed, nodding, "Tell me, Ksenia, why blow your cover for Weasley?"

"Good question," Weasley nodded, despite the fact that he was clearly too weak to stand, his brain still seemed to function.

"I…" the woman colored slightly, "I know Weasley's brother."

"Ah," I grinned, "What we don't do for love."

"I'm not in love with Charlie," the woman denied.

"No?" I asked, smirking, "Then why did you sacrifice your cover for him in this ludicrous rescue mission?"

"Because…" the woman had no answer.

"I thought so," I nodded, smiling, "Well, you should come in, then." I said, gesturing to my door, "You'll find that it'll be easier to leave through the secret tunnel rather than through the main gates."

"No one will notice us in the chaos." The woman argued, "We'll take our chances. Why, after all, should we trust you?"

"Especially," Weasley added, "Since you've just finished torturing me."

I sighed and nodded, "That is, of course, a good point. So, are you coming?"

Ksenia smirked and nodded, "I think that we are," she said, leading Weasley into my room. I pointed towards a chair on which she let Weasley sit, "Why are you helping us?"

"Because this isn't what I signed up for," I replied, looking at Weasley's beaten form, "I want magic back, that's true, but I don't want this," I gestured around before making my way over to my shelf. I took down one of the vials and put it into a bag.

"What are you doing?" Weasley asked.

"The vial contains magic." I explained, handing the bag to Ksenia, "If you drink them you regain your magic – at least you do for a little while. And when magic leaves you again…well, it's not pretty."

I sighed and looked at Weasley and Ksenia, "Still, it's better to have this if you want to take on the Saviors at some point."

"The Saviors?" Weasley asked, confused, but I didn't explain. Instead, I opened the door to my closet. Quickly, I moved my clothes and took out the back wall. As I did so, an opening appeared.

"This leads right into the middle of the forest," I offered, "I'd hurry. They'll notice you're missing soon enough."

Ksenia nodded, shouldered the bag I had handed her and began to lead Weasley out of the room. "Why are you really doing this?" she asked, whispering, as she passed me.

"Same reason you are," I said, shrugging, "For Ginerva."

She smirked at me and nodded, "I figured. Are you coming?"

"Someone has to close up behind you," I said, shaking my head.

Ksenia nodded and turned around, "If you ever need anything," the woman said, "The Resistance will be there for you. Just tell them that you saved Ksenia Krum."

I nodded and Ksenia started to walk off with Weasley. I closed the wall behind them and put my clothes back before lying back down on my bed.

I had betrayed the Saviors that day. I had betrayed everything I had believed in for so long. It had been a long time coming, I knew that. After all, I had sent several letters to Potter. I had always argued to myself that I wasn't really betraying the Saviors – I was just trying to locate Potter.

But that wasn't true. I sighed and rubbed my eyes. What was I getting myself into?

Suddenly, there was a knock on my door. My heart jumped into my throat before falling down into my stomach as I painted the worst case scenario in my mind. It was a trap to see whether or not I was faithful and I had failed. They had found them as they were exiting the tunnel in the forest.

All possibilities lead to one course of action: they were coming to collect me.

Still, I had no options left except to answer the door. The third time someone knocked, I finally opened the door. I was surprised to see Smith standing there, a knowing smirk on his face.

"What do you want?" I asked, astonished.

The man entered without waiting for an invitation, "I was watching you," the man said, looking at me critically, "Out of everyone I would never have expected it to be you."

"What wouldn't you have expected to be me?" I asked.

"The traitor, of course," the man relied, smirking, "I had my money on Malfoy."

"Malfoy?" I asked, scoffing.

"Well, he was the traitor back with Voldemort."

"This is different," I replied, shaking my head, "This is a totally different cause. And I can personally assure you that Malfoy is not the traitor. Quite the opposite, really."

For a moment, I thought that Smith looked disappointed but then it was gone and the man simply shrugged, "Oh, well, I should have known," he offered, "It really was too much to hope for."

"What do you want, Smith?" I asked. I had never really had a lot to do with Smith. He had been a sort-of-friend of Ginerva's. No one really knew what his job was, but it was something to do with the children. He had started here about a month after they had perfected the procedure and seemed to answer to no one.

"I want your help freeing the children," the man said, looking at me.

"The children?" I asked, astonished, before walking over to my cabinet and pouring myself a drink, "Do you want some?"

"Yes, please," the man nodded and I poured him a drink, too. I walked back over and handed him a glass before downing mine in one go.

"Have you seen the children?" I asked.

"I work with them," the man nodded, "Of course I've seen them."

"Then you know that most of them are in no condition to be moved. And even if they were – there are at least fifty children here. Where would you move them?"

The man smirked, "Ginerva made it."

"Ginerva rescued one child – her child – and she died in the end."

Smith looked at me and nodded. He downed the rest of his whiskey and slammed the glass down before he stood up, "I see that you're not interested."

"Of course I am interested," I argued back, "I just don't see how this could possibly work. This is insane, and it will help no one if we fail and get ourselves killed."

"We will not get killed," the man replied, "And I'm not suggesting that we do it alone or without a plan. I'm just asking whether or not I can count on you."

I sighed and nodded, "You can count on me," I agreed, "As long as you convince me that there's even the slightest chance of success."

"That," the man said, walking over to the door, "Is all I needed to hear."

I nodded as he opened the door, "How did you survive?" I asked, suddenly.

"Oh, you know me, Mr. Zabini," the man said in his familiar drawl, "I just carry around the right potions."

With that the man left and I poured myself another drink, unable to think straight. So much had happened in the last few hours. I had tortured Weasley before helping him escape and now I was involved in a plot to free the children.

What had I gotten myself into, I wondered, as I closed my eyes and finally drifted off to sleep.

The whole night long I was plagued by nightmares.


End file.
